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900—  On  a Million-doilar  Trail...., , .By  Nicholas  Carter 

901—  A Weird  Treasure ;.,By  Nicholas  Carter 

902—  The  Middle  Link .... By  Nicholas  Carter 

903—  To  ithe  Ends  of  the  Earth .By  Nicholas  Carter 

904—  When  Honors  Pall By  Nicholas  Carter 

905—  The  Yellow  Brand By  Nicholas  Carter 

906—  A New  Serpent  in  Edea...., By  Nicholas  Carter 

907—  When  Brave  Mss  Nicholas  Carter 


, v 

. s HEW  MAGNET  LIBRARY 

908 —  A Test  of  Courage ‘.By  Nicholas  Carter 

909— '— Where  Peril  Beckons By  Nicholas  Carter 

910 —  The  Gargoni  Girdle By  Nicholas  Carter 

91 1 —  Rascals  & Co , .By  Nicholas  Carter 

912 —  Too  Late  to  Talk....... By  Nicholas  Carter 

91 3 —  Satan’s  Apt  Pupil.... By  Nicholas  Carter 

914 —  The  Girl  Prisoner,. By  Nicholas  Carter 

915—  -The  Danger  of  Folly By  Nicholas  Carter 

A 

916 —  One  Shipwreck  too  Many By  Nicholas  Carter 

917 —  Scourged  by  Fear By  Nicholas  Carter 

918 —  The  Red  Plague By  Nicholas  Carter 

919—  Scoundrels  Rampant By  Nicholas  Carter 

920 —  From  Clew  to  Clew .By  Nicholas  Carter 

921 —  Wfien  Rogues  Con'spire. ..By  Nicholas  Carter 

922 —  Twelve  in  a Grave By  Nicholas  Carter 

923 —  The  Great  Opium  Case .By  Nicholas  Carter 

924 —  A Conspiracy  of  Rumors. ........... .By  Nicholas  Carter^ 

925 —  A Klondike  Claim  By  Nicholas  Carter 

926 —  The  Evil  Formula By  Nicholas  Carter 

927 —  The  Man  of  Many  Faces. By  Nicholas  Carter 

928 —  The  Great  Enigma. .By  Nicholas  Carter 

929 —  The  Burden  of  Proof By  Nicholas  Carter 

930 —  The  Stolen  Brain., By  Nicholas  Carter 

931 —  A Titled  Counterfeiter .By  Nicholas  Carter 

932 —  The  Magic  Necklace... By  Nicholas  Carter 

933—  ’Round  the  World  for  a Quarter By  Nicholas  Carter 

934—  Over  the  Edge  of  the  World  By  Nicholas  Carter 

935 —  In  the  Grip  of  Fate By  Nicholas  Carter 

936 —  The  Case  of  Many  Clews. By  Nicholas  Carter 

937 —  The  Sealed  Door  ' ...'. By  Nicholas  Carter 

938 —  Nicl$  Carter  and  the  Green  Goods  Men. By  Nicholas  Carter 

§39 — The  Man  Without  a Will.... ....By  Nicholas  Carter 

940 —  Tracked  Across  the  Atlantic .By  Nicholas  Carter 

941—  A Clew  from  the  Unknown By  Nicholas  Carter 

942 —  The  Crime  of  a Countess By  Nicholas  Carter 

943 —  A Mixed  Up  Mess By  Nicholas  Carter 

944 —  The  Great  Money  Order  Swindle.. By  Nicholas  Carter 

945 —  The  Adder’s  Brood By  Nicholas  Carter 

94 6 —  A Wall  Street  Haul  By  Nicholas  Carter 

947 —  For  a Pawned  Growl)* *By  Nicholas  Cartes 


/ 


NEW  MAGNET  LIBRARY 


* 


948 —  Sealed  Orders  

949 —  The  Hate  That  Kills  

950 —  The  American  Marquis  

951 —  The  Needy  Nine  

952 —  Fighting  Against  Millions  . . . 

953 —  Outlaws  of  the  Blue 

954 —  The  Old  Detective’s  Pupil... 

955 —  Found  in  the  Jungle 

956 —  The  Mysterious  Mail  Robbery 

957 —  Broken  Bars  

958 —  A Fair  Criminal 

959 —  Won  by  Magic  

960 —  The  Piano  Box  Mystery 

961 —  The  Man  They  Held  Back  . . . 

962 —  A Millionaire  Partner  

963 —  A Pressing  Peril  

964 —  An  Australian.  Klondyke  

965 —  The  Sultan's  Pearls  

966 —  The  Double  Shuffle  Club  ..... 

967 —  Paying  the  Price  

968 —  A Woman’s  Hand  

969 —  A Network  of  Crime 

970 —  At  Thompson’s  Ranch  

971 —  The  Crossed  Needles  

972 —  The  Diamond  Mine  Case  

973—  Blood  Will  Tell  

974 —  An  Accidental  Password  

975 —  The  Crook’s  Bauble  

976 —  Two  Plus  Two  

977 —  The  Yellow  Label  

978 —  The  Clever  Celestial  

979 —  The  Amphitheater  Plot  

980 —  Gideon  Drexel's  Millions  .... 

981 —  Death  in  Life  , 

982 —  A Stolen  Identity  

983 —  Evidence  by  Telephone  

984 —  The  Twelve  Tin  Boxes  

985 —  Clew  Against  Clew  

986 —  Lady  Velvet  

987 —  Playing  a Bold  Game 


.By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 
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.By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 
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.By"  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 
. By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 
.•By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 

.By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Carter 
.By  Nicholas  Cartel: 


NEW  MAGNET  LIBRAR\ 


988- — A Dead  Man’s  Grip.  . . . ... . . 1 .....  By  Nicholas  Carter 

989 —  Snarled  Identities  By  Nicholas  Carter 


990 —  A Deposit  Vault  Puzzle  By"  Nicholas  Carter 

991—  The  Crescent  Brotherhood  .......... .By  Nicholas  Carter 

992 —  The  Stolen  Pay  Train. By  Nicholas  Carter 

993 —  The  Sea  Fox  By  Nicholas  Carter 

994 —  Wanted  by  Two  Clients......... By  Nicholas  Carter 

995 —  The  Van  Alstine  Case ................  By  Nicholas  Carter 

996—  -Check  No.  777  .................. .V. . . By  Nicholas  Carter 

997 —  Partners  in  Peril. ................... .By  Nicholas  Carter 

998—  Nick  Carter’s  Clever  Protege. ........  By  Nicholas  Carter 

999 —  The  Sign  of  the  Crossed  Knives. ....  .By  Nicholas  Carter 

1000 —  1 The  Man  Who  Vanished. ...........  By  Nicholas  Carter 


To  be  Published  During  May,  1919. 

1001— A  Battle  for  the  Right. ............ .By  Nicholas  Carter 

1002—  A Game  of  Craft. By  Nicholas  Carter 


To  be  Published  During  June,  1919. 

1003 —  Nick  Carter’s  Retainer  ............ .By  Nicholas  Carter 

1004 —  Caught  in  the  Toils  .By  Nicholas  Carter 


To  be  Published  During  July,  1919. 

1005—  A Broken  Bond .....................  i By  Nicholas  Carter 

1006—  The  Crime  of  the  French  Cafe. ......  .By  Nicholas  Carter 


To  be  Published  During  August,  1919. 

1007 —  The  Man  Who  Stole  Millions. . . ....  .By  Nicholas  Carter 

1008 —  The  Twelve  Wise  Men  .............  By  Nicholas  Carter 

To  be  Published  During  September,  1919. 

3009— Hidden  Foes  .By  Nicholas  Carter 

1010 — A Gamblers’  Syndicate  .By  Nicholas  Carter 


In  order  that  there  may  be  no  confusion,  we  desire  to  say  that 
the  books  listed  above  will  be  issued,  during  the  respective 
months,  in  New  York  City  and  vicinity.  They  may  not  reach 
the  readers,  at  a distance,  promptly,  on  account  of  delays  m 
transportation. 


Gideon  Drexel’s 


i I f:  ({,'/;  f;  Y 
J|  if  | 

noons; 


OR, 


A WILLING  FOOL 


NICHOLAS  CARTER 


Author  of  the  celebrated  stories  of  Nick  Carter’s  adventures,  which 
are  published  exclusively  in  the  New  Magnet  Library,  con- 
ceded to  be  among  the  best  detective  tales  ever  written. 


STREET  & SMITH  CORPORATION 

" . PUBLISHERS 
79-89  SEVENTH  AVENUE 
NEW  YORK  CITY 

• - >**• 


\ 


Copyright,  1893-1899 
By  STREET  & SMITH 


Gideon  Drexel’s  Millions 


All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of  translation  into  foreign 
languages,  inchiding  the  Scandinavian, 


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n 


IDEON  DREXEL'S  MILLIONS. 


CHAPTER  .1. 

KICK  CARTER  GETS  A>,T  IMPORTANT  CASE, 

The  telephone  bell  in  Nick  Carter’s  residence  startled 
the  great  detective  out  of  a fit  of  musing,  which  prom- 
ised to  carry  him  into  an  afternoon  nap.  He  didn’t 
move  from  his  restful  position  on  the  leather-covered 
* lounge  in  his  library,  but  his  eyes  as  well  as  ears  were 
f wide  open  at  once  in  anticipation. 

He  heard  It  is  wife  leave  her  sitting  room  just  over- 
head, and  gd out  into  the  hall  to  answer  the  call 

“Hello!  jvhat  is  it?  .....  Yes?  . . . . . 
Who.  . . .f.  . Mr.  Carter?  .....  Oh!  Very 
well!  . . . j . When!  .....  Yes.  I’ll  tell  him. 

» txood-by.  ” * 

“Who  is  it,  dear?”  called  Nick,  as  he  heard  his  wife 
“ring  off.” 

1 “The  superintendent.” 

“What  does  he  want?” 

“Wanted  to  know  if  you  were  at  home.” 

“Well?” 

By  this  time  Mrs.  Carter  had  descended  the  stairs 

* ^ * 

and  entered  the  library. 

“He’s  corning  right  up  here  with  another  person,  and 
requests  that  you  don’t  go  put  till  they  arrive.” 

“Humph  f That  probably  means  a postponement  of 
your  two  Weeks’  jaunt  to  the  Adirondacks  to-morrow. 
I’m  sorry,  my  deai0i^^isv^.^ 


mVm 


rter  Gets  a Case. 


“So  am  I,  for  your  sake,  because  you  need  rest. 
You  are  working  too  bard.’ 5 

Nick  smiled  and  raised  himself  to  a sitting  posture. 
“A  detective  never  rests,”  he  said  with  a yawn.  “I 
wonder  what  the  chief  has  on  the  string  now?  Some- 
thing very  important,  I’m  sure.” 

“Certainly  it  is,  or  he’d  not  call  you  into  the  case,” 
demurely  I’emarked  Mrs.  Carter,  with  a proud  glance 
at  her  handsome,  stalwart  young  husband. 

Nick  gave  her  another  smile  in  reply  and  added: 

“It  is  of  unusual  importance — this  new  business. 
Superintendent  Byrnes  never  brings  a case  to  me  unless 
there  is  some  strong  reason.  Otherwise  he  sends  for 
me,  and  I go  to  him.”  . 

Half  an  hour  later  a carriage  drew  up  in  front  of 
Nick’s  residence,  and  from  it  alighted  New  York’s  cele- 
brated  Superintendent  of  Police,  and  a well-dressed, 
portly  gentleman  who  had  passed  the  meridian  of  life 
some  years  before. 

Both  were  quickly  admitted,  and  shown  at  once  into 
the  presence  of  the  American  Vidoeq. 

Superintendent  Byrnes,  in  his  characteristic  way,  lost 
no  time  by  conventionalities. 

“Nick,  this  is  Mr.  Gideon  Drexel,  who  has  important 
business  with  you.  Mr.  Drexel,  this  is  Nicholas  Car- 
ter, the  best  detective  in  the  United  States.” 

Mr.  Drexel  bowed  and  said : 

“He  is  young  to  be  so  successful.” 

“Young  in  years,  but  old  as  Methuselah  in  experi- 
ence,” responded  the  superintendent,  while  Nick  bowed 
to  the  double  compliment.  Then  he  said : 

“If  Mr.  Drexel  will  be  seated,  we  will  come  at  once 
to  the  business  in  hand.  What  is  the  nature  of  the 
mse?” 


“An  abduction !’ 5 


.. HI: 

Nick  Carter  Gets  a Case:  ^ jffr 

“Ah!  Who  is  the  victim?” 

“My  daughter.” 

There  were  tears  in  the  old  gentleman’s  eyes,  and 
bis  voice  showed  signs  of  unsteadiness  as  be  made  his 
reply. 

Nick  walked  over  to  a cabinet,  poured  some  wine  into 
a glass,  and  offered  it  to  his  guest. 

“Drink  that.  Mr.  Drexel,  and  then  remain  as  self- 
possessed  as  you  can  until  I get  through  with  my 
catechism.  It  is  absolutely  necessary  that  you  should 
have  a clear  mind  while  you  answer  my  questions.” 

Mr.  Drexel  drank  the  wine  and  said: 

“I  will  do  my  best  at  self  control.  But  it  is  a great 
blow  to  me,  sir — a great  blow.” 

“We  will  try  to  remove  your  trouble  as  speedily  as 
possible.  How  old  is  this  missing  daughter?” 

“Five  years.” 

The  superintendent,  who  was  watching  Nick,  knew 
that  the  reply  was  a surprise.  Nick  expected  to  hear 
that  the  supposed  victim  was  a young  lady. 

“When  did  this  abduction  take  place,  Mr.  Drexel?” 
“Last  night!” 

“Where?” 

“At  my  country  place,  Maplewood;  an  hour's  run  up 
the  Hudson.” 

“Are  you  in  business?” 

“Yes,  sir;  I have  been  in  business  for  fifty  years, 
right  here  in  New  York.” 

“Of  the  firm  of  Drexel,  Davis  & Co.,  importers?” 

“I  am  senior  member  of  that  firm.” 

“Then  he  is  worth  several  millions  of  dollars,”  was 
Nick’s  mental  comment.  After  a moment’s  reflection 
be  continued  his  questioning ; 

“Have  you  any  clew  to  start  me  off  on  the  right 
track  in  1 j^gse?” 


I 


Y D / d 0 | .1  , ' 

8 I v j j Carter  Gets  a Case. 

, “I  don’t  know.  ,1  kav^  my  suspicions,  but ” 

“Wait.  We’ll  come  to  that  presently.  First  tell 
me  about  your  family.  Of  whom  is  it  composed?” 

“Myself,  my  wife,  my  stepdaughter,  and  my  little 
lost  Daisy.  ” 

“Your  wife  was  a widow  when  you  married  her?” 
“No.” 

“You  said  your  stepdaughter?” 

“Oh!  I was  married  twice.  My  first  wife  was  a 
widow  when  I wedded  her.” 

Nick  was  making  memoranda  as  he  went  along. 
“What  was  her  name— the  widow's  name?”  - 
“Meredith.” 

“Then,  of  course,  your  stepdaughter’s  name  is 
Meredith?” 

“Yes.  Dolly  Meredith. ” 

“How  old  is  she?” 

“Nineteen,  1 believe.” 

“Had  this  first  wife  any  other  children?” 

“No — er — that  is ” 

The  importer  began  to  show  a spirit  of  chafing  under 
In  ick  s catechism  ; and  as  he  halted  in  his  stammering 
reply,  he  turned  an  inquiring  look  upon  Superintendent 
Byrnes.  The  latter  promptly  said: 

“Be  free  to  tell  him  everything  he  wants  to  know, 
Mr.  Drexel.  Conceal  nothing  from  him.  Everything 
you  say  in  this  room  will  he  as  much  a secret  from  the 
world  as  if  it  remained  locked  in  your  own  heart.  ” 

4 But  these  things  can  have  no  bearing  upon  the 
abduction.” 

“We  don’t  know  about  that,  Mr.  Drexel,”  said  Nick. 
“But  if  I am  to  go  to  work  for  you  I must  do  it  intelli- 
gently; and  I prefer  to  know  all  about  your  family  and 
household,  from  your  own  lips.  Tour  child  was  ab- 
ducted. She  was  taken  away  for  a cause.  Somebody 


9 


W-.y  . 

Nick  Carter  Gets  a Case. 

has  an  interest  in  the  crime.  I am  going  to  see  if  I 
can  discover  that  interest  the  first  thing.  Once  we 
have  a motive,  our  work  is  comparatively  easy.” 

“Well,  I’ll  conceal  nothing  from  you,  with  the  un- 
derstanding that  it  is  for  your  private  use  only.” 

“Good!  Now,  did  your  first  wife  have  any  other 
children  except  this  daughter  when  you  married  her— 
except  this  Dolly  Meredith?” 

“Yes,  there  was  a son;  though  I did  not  know  of  his 
existence  until  after  I had  married  his  mother.” 

“He  is  still  living?” 

“I  don’t  know — I suppose  so.” 

“You  don’t  know?” 

“The  fellow  has  been  a fugitive  from  justice  for 
twelve  years.  ” 

“What  was  the  crime?” 

“Murder !” 

“Murder?”  ' 

“Maybe  I should  say  homicide.  He  killed  a man  in 
a quarrel  while  both  were  intoxicated.  He  was  a mere 
boy  at  the  time,  only  sixteen,  but  was  already  running 
the  pace.  The  lad  escaped,  and  was  never  heard  of 
again.” 

“His  mother  kept  the  fact  concealed  from  you?” 
“Yes,  for  several  years.  I should  not  of  course  have 
married  her  had  I known  of  her  son’s  disgrace.” 

Nick  remained  in  thought  for  several  minutes. 
Then,  as  a result,  he  asked  : 

“You  were  not  a young  man  when  you  married  Mrs. 
Meredith?” 

“No;  I was  fifty-four  years  old.” 

“And  now?” 

“I  am  sixty-five.” 

' “There  was  no  issue  of  that  marriage?” 

“There  ^ -’S  not.” 


jo  Nick  Carter  Gets  a Case. 

“How  old  is  the  present  Mrs.  Drexel,  the  mother  of 
your  missing  daughter?” 

“Twenty-four.”^.  • ' « 

“Are  your  wife  and  your  stepdaughter  good  friends?” 
“I  am  sorry  to  say  they  are  not — they  never  agree 
very  well.” 

“Has  your  wife  cause  to  be  jealous  of  your  treatment 
of  Miss  Meredith?” 

“None  whatever.  I tolerate  my  stepdaughter  only 
because  I promised  her  mother  on  her  deathbed,  that 
the  daughter  should  have  a home  and  want  for  nothing 
while  I live,  provided  she  gave  no  cause  for  me  to  break 
the  promise.” 

“Who  would  be  your  heir-at-law,  Mr.  Drexel,  incase 
of  the  death  of  your  little  daughter?” 

Drexel  turned  pale  and  almost  gasped  for  breath. 
Nick  hastened  to  reassure  him: 

“Now  keep  cool,  sir.  It  may  seem  cruel  to  ask  a 
question  with  a suggestion  in  it  like  that.  But  I must 
know  just  how  the  case  stands  in  every  possible  phase, 
so  that  no  time  may  be  lost  on  a wrong  trail.” 

“You — don’t — think — — ■” 

“That  the  little  girl  has  been  murdered?  Certainly 
not.  Had  that  been  her  enemies*  design,  she  would 
not  have  first  been  carried  away.” 

“You  mean ” 

“I  mean  she  would  have  been  put  out  of  the  way 
when  found  alone — and  not  abducted  for  such  a pur- 
pose Now  tell  me  who  is  the  next  heir-at-law.” 

“My  nephew.” 

“His  name?” 

“Frank  Willoughby.” 

“Where  is  he?” 

“Here  in  New  York.” 

“Does  he  **ver  visit  you?” 


Nick  Carter  Gets  a Case.  1 1 

f 'I  C.  ‘ , r*i 

4 6 No!  no!  He  has  not  set  foot  in  my  house,  with 
my  consent,  for  six  years.” 

“You  had  a quarrel,  then?” 

. “Yes.” 

“About  what?” 

i ’ « > •' 

“His  marriage.  He  married  a variety  actress.” 

“And  before  that  he  was  your  heir-expectant?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Where  is  his  wife?” 

“She  died  a year  after  marriage,  giving  birth  to  a 
child.” 

“And  the  child?” 

“Died  also  a few  hours  after  its  birth,  so  Pm  told;  I 
never  saw  either.” 

“Now,  then,  Mr.  Drexel,  I asked  you  awhile  ago  if 
you  had  any  clew  to  the  abduction ; you  said  you  had 
your  suspicions.  You  suspect  this  nephew,  Frank 
Willoughby,  of  being  directly  or  indirectly  responsible 
for  the  child’s  disappearance?” 

“Yes;  but  how ” 

“That  is  one  of  my  deductions,”  smiled  Nick,  by 
way  of  interruption.  “Now  tell  me  if  there  is  any 
direct  evidence  to  connect  him  with  the  crime.” 

“Yes.” 

Mr.  Drexel  took  a package  from  his  pocket,  unrolled 
it,  and  produced  a man’s  kid  glove. 

“This  was  found  in  the  nursery  after  the  child  was 
missing.” 

Nick  took  the  glove  and  examined  a name  written 
on  the  inside  of  the  wrist,  which  Mr.  Drexel  pointed 
out. 

The  name  was  “Frank  Willoughby.” 


12 


n 


Nick  Carter  Never  Fails." 


CHAPTER  II. 

“nick  carter  never  fails.” 

•N 

45 You  have  made  a will,  Mr.  Drexel?” 

“No,  Why  should  I make  a will?  My  child  will 
inherit  ail  I have,  save  the  widow’s  third,  and  that  too, 
at  her  death.  It  is  just  as  I would  have  it.” 

“But  children  sometimes  die;  especially  of  that  ten- 
der age.” 

“This  is  not  the  time  to  think  of  a will  when  I am 
thus  bereaved.” 

“Have  you  ever  discussed  the  possibility  of  such  a 
bereavement  and  its  consequent  necessity?” 

“Yes.” 

“With  whom?”  - 

“ With  my  wife.” 

“She  broached  the  subject?” 

“I  believe  she  did.” 

“And  what  did  you  tell  her?” 

“That  should  Heaven  be  so  cruel  as  to  take  away  my 
child,  I would  leave  everything  to  her.” 

“Because,  next  to  your  child,  you  love  her  more  than 
any  one  on  earth?” 

“Yes.  And  because  I should  not  die  happy,  thinking 
that  Frank  Willoughby  might  ever  get  one  dollar  of 
what  I left  behind.” 

“She  knows  you  have  made  no  will  as  yet?” 

“Yes.  But  I’ve  promised  her  to  have  it  drawn  up 
within  the  next  day  or  two.” 

“When  did  you  promise  this?” 

“To-day,  before  I left  home.” 


f 


“ Nick  Carter  Never  Fails/'  13 

“Why?” 

“She  asked  me  to  do  so.” 

“Humph!  Does  Willoughby  know  there  is  no  will?” 
• “I  think  not.  He  may  suspect,  but  can  have  no  cer- 
tain knowledge.” 

“Your  wife — is  she  prostrated  over  her  child’s  disap- 
pearance?” 

“Not  prostrated;  but  it  nearly  kills  her — the  agony 
she  suffers.” 

“Hysterical?” 

“No!  no!  Mrs.  Drexel  is  not  that  kind  of  a woman. 
I have  never  seen  her  shed  a tear.  But  it  is  women  of 
that  nature  who  suffer  most.” 

Nick  made  no  reply  to  this  theory,  but  shifted  the 
line  of  his  inquiry. 

“Now  tell  me  about  the  other  inmates  of  the  house, 
Mr.  Drexel — your  servants.” 

“There  are  only  three  in  the  house  now;  the  cook, 
the  coachman  and  hostler,  and  the  nurse.  The  gar- 
dener and  maid  left  two  days  ago.” 

“Why?” 

“I  had  some  fault  to  find  with  the  gardener.  He 
took  offense  and  left.  The  maid  was  his  daughter,  and 
she  went  with  him.” 

“Where  did  they  go?” 

“To  a place  two  miles  south  of  where  I live.” 

“Their  names?”* 

“Michael  and  Lizzie  Dolan.” 

“We  will  keep  the  Dolans  under  our  eye.” 

“You  don’t  suspect ” 

“I  suspect  nothing  of  the  Dolans;  but  everybody,  no 
matter  how  distantly  connected  with  your  family,  must 
be  taken  into  consideration.  The  nurse — can  you  trust 

her?” 

“Mary  Storms?  Oh,  yes.  She  was  in  the  service  of 


Nick  Carter  Never  Fails/’ 


my  first  wife,  attended  my  present  wife  when  Daisy 
was  born,  and  never  lost  sight  of  the  child  since  its 
first  hour  of  life,  until  it  was  stolen  from  its  bed  last 
night.” 

, “Then  that  glove  is  the  only  clew  you  have  to  lead 
to  the  identity  of  the  abductor?” 

“Yes;  unless  the  fact  that  Willoughby  was  seen 
near  Maplewood  last  evening,  might  be  considered  ad- 
ditional evidence  of  his  guilt.” 

“I  would  like  to  see  this  nephew  of  yours.” 

“Would  you  arrest  him  if  you  could  find  him?” 

“I  think  I should.” 

“I  know  where  he  rooms;  at  No.  — West  Twenty^ 
fourth  Street. 5 ’ 

“Good  I I’ll  look  him  up.  I think,  however,  he 
will  not  be  found  there  now.” 

“This  may  help  you.” 

Mr.  Drexel  handed  to  Nick  a cabinet  photograph  of 
a tall,  handsome  young  man,  with  a face  that  was  im- 
pressive, yet  enigmatical. 

Nick  examined  the  portrait  before  he  asked: 

“This  is  your  nephew?” 

“That  is  Willoughby.” 

“I  may  keep  it?” 

“Yes.  I brought  it  thinking  the  thing  might  be  of 
service  jn  this  way.’’ 

Nick  stuck  it  in  his  pocket, 

“That  is  all  for  the  present,  Mr.  Drexel.  But  before 
you  go  I have  one  request  to  make.  You  have  not  yet 
replaced  your  gardener  and  maid?” 

“No.  I have  been  too  much  concerned  about  my 
missing  child  to  give  that  subject  thought  to-day.” 
“Well,  I will  send  a new  gardener  and  maid  to  you 
.to-morrow,  unless,  meanwhile,  I come  across  Mr,  Wil- 
loughby with  success. 99 


Nick  Carter  Never  Fails/' 


i5 


“I  fear  I do  not  quite  catch  your  meaning.” 

“Then  do  not  fill  the  places  of  those  deserting  serv- 
ants till  to-morrow.  When  I send  applicants  to  you 
for  the  positions,  with  a note  from  me,  employ  them, 
and  do  not  watch  them  too  closely.” 

“They ” 

“I  think  you  understand  me,”  interrupted  Nick. 
“And  if  you  could  find  some  general  repairing  to  be 
done  all  over  the  house  and  grounds,  I could  also  find  a 
very  good  professor  of  odd  jobs  for  that  purpose.  He 
would  come  in  most  apropos.” 

“A  competent  man  could  find,  plenty  of  that  kind  of 
work  at  Maplewood;  but  this  man  of  yours — — ” 

“Will  understand  his  business  thoroughly.  Just 
give  him  carte  blanche , and  don’t  curb  any  imperti- 
nence he  may  assume  in  performing  his  duties.” 

“Then  there  will  be  three  of  these  people  you  propose 
to  send?” 

“There  will  be  two,  and  maybe  three,”  said  Nick. 

“I  may  explain  it  to  my  wife?” 

Nick  had  turned  toward  the  clock  on  the  mantel  to 
note  the  time;  but  he  wheeled  around  at  these  words, 
and,  raising  his  hands  impressively  replied: 

“You  must  not  hint  a word  or  show  a single  act  to 
any  person  on  earth  which  might  arouse  a suspicion 
that  these  new  servants  are  not  what  they  pretend  to 
be.  This  is  most  important,  Mr.  Drexel.  I believe  the 
parties  who  took  your,  child  away  have  acted  upon  a 
well-laid  plan,  and  it  will  be  no  play  to  recover  the  lit- 
tle one  and  return  her  to  you  safe  and  sound.  At  least 
it  will  require  more  than  a day  to  uncover  the  plot 
which  I am  convinced  lies  behind  the  deed.  Mean- 
while, if  we  by  chance  let  your  enemies  suspect  our  line 
of  action,  they  will  balk  us,  and  we  may  at  the  same 
time  endanger  the  little  one’s  life.” 


ij6  “ Nick  Carter  Never  Fails.” 

Mr.  Drexel  again  turned  pale  and  grasped  for  support 
at  the  back  of  a chair. 

Nick  noticed  the  terror  his  words  had  inspired,  and 
hastened  to  add : 

* “Bear  in  mind  that  if  7/ou  implicitly  trust  me,  and 
no  one  else , I promise  to  restore  your  child  to  you  safe 
and  sound  in  good  time.  But  you  must  have  patience 
and  entire  confidence  in  the  man  to  whom  you  give 
your  case.” 

Mr.  Drexel  strode  forward,  grasped  Nick  by  the 
hand,  and  said,  in  a voice  choking  with  emotion : 

“I  will  trust  you,  sir,  and  obey  your  orders  fully.  If 
you  succeed  in  bringing  back  my  baby,  and  delivering 
to  justice  those  who  have  torn  her  from  me,  you  will 
never  have  cause  to  regret  the  time  you  spent  in  your 
work.  If  you  fail,  then  God  help  me!” 

“I  will  not  fail.  Good-day,  sir.” 

“Good-day.  When  shall  I see  you  again?” 

“I  can’t  tell  you;  when  you  least  expect  me,  perhaps. 
Where  shall  the  cabman  take  you  from  here?” 

“The  superintendent— — ” 

“Mr.  Byrnes  and  I will  remain  together  for  the 
present.  ” 

“Ttten  let  the  cabman  drive  me  to  the  Grand  Central 
Depot.  I will  return  to  Maplewood;  and  I go  back 
with  a lighter  heart  than  I brought  away  when  I left 
home  this  morning.  You  have  given  me  great  hope, 
Mr.  Carter.”  * 

“I  will  verify  that  hope,  Mr.  Drexel,  before  many 
days  or  weeks.  ’ ’ 

“Oh,  I hope  you  will  not  fail.” 

Superintendent  Byrnes  made  the  reply : 

“He  will  not  fail,  Mr.  Drexel.  Nick  Carter  never 
fails.  There  is  no  such  word  as  ‘fail’  in  his  vocabu- 
lary.” 


Into  the  Hudson  River. 


17 


CHAPTER  III. 

INTO  THE  HUDSON  RIVER. 

After  the  importer  had  gone,  Superintendent  Brynes 
turned  to  Nick,  who  was  engaged  lighting  a cigar,  and 
said : 

“Well,  my  boy,  what  do  you  think  of  the  case?” 
“Have  a cigar,  chief?  What  do  I think  of  the  case? 

J 

I think,  before  I get  through  with  it,  old  man  Drexel 
will  be  the  most  surprised  person  on  earth.” 

“Yes,  yes!  I believe  I understand.  I listened  in- 
tently, while  you  questioned  him,  and  was  not  long  in 
‘getting  onto’  your  drift,  as  the  boys  say.” 

“Well,  what  was  my  drift?” 

“You  believe  the  child’s  mother  knows  where  it  is?” 
Nick  glanced  up  quickly  and  looked  his  chief  in  the 
face, 

“I  fear  that  theory  is  true.” 

“And  you  take  no  stock  in  the  old  gentleman’s  belief 
that  his  nephew  has  a hand  in  the  crime.” 

“Now  there  is  where  you  are  mistaken,  chief.” 

“You  believe  V^illoughby  abducted  the  child?” 
“Yes.” 

“Oh  ! With  the  mother’s  co-operation  and  consent?” 
c 4 Exactly.  ’ ’ 

“Why  should  they  be  confederates  in  such  a crime?” 
“I’m  going/to  try  to  find  out.” 

“How?” 

“First,  I am  going  to  look  up  this  Willoughby  and 


i8  - Into  the  Hudson  River. 

put  the  screws  to  him.  Then  I am  going  to  study  Mrs. 
Drexel,  and  other  members  of  Mr.  Drexel’ s household.  ” 
“You  are  going  to  Maplewood  in  disguise?’ ’ 

“Yes.”  „ , ' 

“And  take  Chick  and  Ida  with  you.” 

“That’s  it;  and  I’ll  bet  you  a basket,  that  in  less  tha* 
three  days  I’ll  know  more  about  old  Drexel’s  family 
than  he  ever  dreamed  about.  When  I restore  his  child, 
its  enemies  must  all  be  hors  de  combat 

“Nick,  you  never  had  an  equal  in  your  line.  You 
were  born  for  the  business. 

“Probably;  I inherited  my  profession,  you  know.” 
“Well,  the  case  is  in  your  hands,  and  for  the  present 
I leave  it  there,  and  return  to  other  affairs.  Good-by, 
Nick,  and  quick  success.” 

“Thanks,  and  good-by,  chief.” 

At  an  early  hour  next  morning,  Nick  Carter’s  foot- 
steps led  him  to  the  vicinity  of  No.  — West  Twenty- 

fourth  Street. 

He  was  mounting  the  steps  to  ring  the  bell  when  the 
doer  opened  and  a man  came  out. 

The  two  met  at  the  vestibule  entrance,  and  a mutual 

✓ 

stare  was  exchanged.  Nick  was  almost  certain  he  had 
seen  th£fc  face  before,  in  connection  with  something  of 
importance;  but  his  memory  was  not  active  enough  to 
bring  the  face  and  the  incident  together.  • It  is  not  im- 
probable that  the  man  was  also  trying  to  place  the 
face  of  the  detective  in  his  mind's  picture  gallery. 

“1  beg  pardon,”  said  Nick;  “but  does  Mr.  Prank 
Willoughby  live  here?” 

“I  believe  he  does;  but  I’m  not  dead  sure.  I just 
boards  here  ’casionally  meself.  Better  ask  the  land- 
lady.” 

So  saying  the  man  ran  down  the  steps  and  walked 
rapidly  away,  ■ ■>;  • * 


Into  the  Hudson  River.  19 

“I’d  give  a fiver  to  place  that  fellow/’ muttered 
Nick;  “and  I’ll  do  it  when  I’ve  time.  Just  now  I have 
other  fish  to  fry.” 

He  rang  the  bell.  A colored  boy  responded. 

“Does  Frank  Willoughby  live  here?” 

“Yaas,  sah!” 

“Is  he  in?” 

“No,  sah.  Done  lef  not  half  an  hou’  ago.” 

“Do  you  know  where  he  went?” 

“Went  away  in  a kerrige.  Took  his  valise  wid 
him.  I dene  h’ard  him  tell  de  coochman  to  dribe  like 
de  debil  to  de  foot  of  Twenty-second  Street,  North 
Ribber.” 

Nick  thanked  the  boy  and  turned  back  to  the  street. 
“That  is  the  slip  of  the  Albany  day  boats.  He  is 
leaving  town  by  that  route,”  mused  Nick.  Then  he 
hastily  pulled  his  watch  from  his  pocket  and  consulted 
it. 

“The  boat  leaves  at  nine  o’clock.  I have  five  min* 
utes  to  make  the  pier.  There  goes  a cab.  I’ll  try  it. 
She  may  be  delayed  a few  minutes  with  freight.” 
Hailing  the  cab  he  offered  the  driver  triple  fare  to 
get  him  to  the  foot  of  West  Twenty-second  Street  in 
time  for  the  boat,  and  was  soon  flying  madly  through 
the  narrow  streets  of  the  west  side. 

Just  as  they  came  in  sight  of  the  pier  the  driver  drew 
up  suddenly,  sprang  to  the  ground,  and  said,  in  a dole- 
ful voice : 

“Too  late,  sir.  There  she  goes.” 

Nick  looked  out  and  saw  the  stately  boat  in  mid- 
stream, half  a mile  up  the  river  under  full  headway. 
“What  boat  is  it,  driver?” 

“The  Albany.” 

“Good !”  muttered  Nick.  “I  know  the  captain,  and* 
if  I can  get  aboard,  I’ll  have  no  trouble  about  my  mam 


20 


Into  the  Hudson  River. 


I must  head  her  off  at  Peekskill  or  somewhere  up  the 
river.  Driver,  a ten-dollar  bill  extra  if  you  get  me  to 
the  Grand  Central  Depot  in  time  for  the  9 :30  train,  and 
a fiver  anyhow  for  wear  and  tear.'5 

“I’ll  do  mv  best,  sir.'5 

Again  it  was  a wild  chase  through  the  west  side,  and 
one  more  failure  met  Nick  ac  the  end.  He  missed  the 
train.  - 

“ Well,  I’ll  have  to  take  the  10:30  o'clock  express  to 
Poughkeepsie  now.  If  he  doesn’t  land  before  the  boat 
reaches  that  place.  I’ll  have  him.” 

Nick  left  the  day  express  at  Poughkeepsie,  and.  upon 
inquiring,  learned  that  the  Albany  was  not  due  for 
some  time. 

Having  dispatched  a “counter”  lunch,  the  detective 
went  to  the  river  front,  where  he  found  a man  with  a 
rowboat,  and  made  a hasty  contract  with  the  latter. 
Five  minutes  later  they  were  skimming  over  the  water 
down  the  river  to  meet  the  Albany  boat. 

The  Albany  was  late:  and  when  she  came  into  view 
the  detective  and  his  boatman  were  five  miles  below 
Poughkeepsie. 

In  hailing  the  steamer  Nick  was  compelled  to  go  dan- 
gerously near  the  big  vessel ; but  he  succeeded  in  at- 
tracting the  attention  of  Captain  Odell,  to  whom  he 
was  personally  known.  In  consequence  of  this  ac- 
quaintance he  had  little  trouble  in  getting  permission 
to  come  aboard.  The  rowboat  was  towed  astern,  and 
the  boatman  waited  further  orders  on  the  lower  deck. 

“What’s  up  now,  Carter?”  inquired  Captain  Odell, 
as  he  sho^k  hands  with  Nrck. 

“You  have  a passenger  aboard  whom  I want  to 
meet.  ’ 1 

“Done  something  terrible,  I suppose,  or  ycu'd  not  be 
after  him?'’ 


Into  the  Hudson  River. 


2 1 


* ‘Merely  suspicion;  but  he  is  eo  important  I can’t 
afford  to  let  him  escape.” 

“What’s  the  name?” 

“Willoughby.” 

“Don’t  know  him;  but  we’ll  hunt  him  up.” 

“Not  necessary.  I’ll  not  trouble  you,  captain.  I see 

him.” 

Nick  recognized  the  original  of  the  photograph  in  a 
young  man  standing  a little  forward  of  the  wheelhouse, 
leaning  with  his  back  against  the  rail  smoking  a cigar 
and  quietly  watching  the  captain  and  the  detective. 

Without  any  ceremony  Nick  walked  across  to  the 
young  man,  and  said*: 

“Do  I speak  to  Mr.  Frank  Willoughby?” 

“Yes,  sir.  What  can  I do  for  you?” 

“You  can  oblige  me  exceedingly  by  going  with  me 
without  asking  any  questions  or  making  resistance.” 
“Going  with  you?  Wrhere?” 

“Now  you  are  asking  questions.” 

“Who  are  you?  What  are  you?” 

“I  am  a detectvie,  acting  under  orders  of  Superin- 
tendent Byrnes;  and  my  name  is  Nick  Carter.” 

“I’ve  heard  of  you,  Mr.  Carter,”  was  the  cool  reply, 
as  Mr.  Willoughby  sent  a few  rings  of  tobacco  smoke 
into  the  air. 

“So  Superintendent  Byrnes  wants  me,  does  he?” 

“I  guess  so.” 

“For  what,  if  I may  ask?” 

“I’ll  tell  you  after  we  leave  the  boat.” 

“But  I didn’t  say  I would  leave  the  boat.” 

“Oh,  but  you  will;  quietly,  if  you  are  wise;  by  force 
and  in  irons  if  you  resist.” 

“Tell  me  one  thing,  and  I’ll  go  quietly.” 

“Well,  what  is  it?” 

“JYho  is  my  accuser?” 


22  Into  the  Hudson  River 

‘‘Gideon  Drexel.” 

“Curse  him!  I thought  so.” 

“Now  will  you  go?” 

“Yes;  lead  the  way.” 

“Your  baggage?” 

“Never  mind  my  baggage.  It  -will  be  safe  here.” 
As  Nick  passed  Captain  Odell,  he  whispered: 

“Take  car©  of  this  man’s  valise.  I’ll  want  it  ” 

Five  minutes  later  the  rowboat,  with  Nick  and  Wil- 
loughby, drew  awaj7  from  the  Albany,  while  the  people 
on  the  big  steamer  leaned  over  the  guards  watching  the 
departure  of  their  fellow- passenger,  and  wondering  what 
it  all  meant. 

“Where  nowT?”  asked  the  boatman  of  Nick. 

“To  the  first  station  on  the  Hudson  River  Railroad 
below.” 

As  the  boat  was  headed  away  from  the  Albany,  Wil- 
loughby remarked  that  the  air  , was  warm,  and  there- 
upon removed  his  coat. 

While  he  folded  it  and  placed  it  tinder  him,  he  asked ; 
“I’d  like  to  know  where  you  are  going  to  take  me,” 
“Well,  I’ll  oblige  you  with  the  information,  since 
you’ve  been  so  good-natured  about  it  all,”  said  Nick. 
“I’m  going  to  take  you  first  of  all  to  Maplewood.” 
Willoughby  had  taken  a cigar  from  his  vest  pocket 
and  was  biting  off  the  end  when  Nick  gave  him  this 
information. 

“Have  you  a match?”  he  quietly  asked,  turning  to 
the  detective,  who  gat  in  the  stern. 

Nick  put  his  hand  in  his  vest  pocket  to  get  the  match. 
At  the  same  moment  Willoughby  sprang  upon  him  like 
a fury. 

“I’ve  changed  my  mind  about  going  with  you,” 
shouted  the  prisoner.  “If  you  can  swim,  you  may  go 
ashore.” 


23 


Jnto  the  Hudson  River. 

. «► 

But  be  calculated  too  lightly  on  the  man  he  was  deal- 
ing with.  Though  taken  by  surprise,  Nick  saved  him- 
self from  being  hurled  into  the  river  and  clinched  his 

adversary. 

The  boatman  was  scared  almost  out  of  his  wits,  and 
set  up  a loud  cry  for  help. 

His  shouts  were  beard  on  board  the  Albany,  and  they 
caused  a great  commotion  among  the  passengers. 

Had  the  boatman  not  been  a coward,  Nick  would 
have  overcome  his  man  without  risk  of  a wetting;  but 
the  lubber  stood  up  in  the  boat  and  began  to  yell  inces- 
santly for  help. 

His  cries  exasperated  Willoughby,  who  threw  out- 
one  foot  with  a backward  kick,  striking  the  man  in  the 
stomach  and  sending  him  tumbling  over  the  side. 

In  an  instant  the  boat  was  capsized,  and  the  two  - 
struggling  men  were  also  in  the  water. 

The  shore  was  half  a mile  away,  and  the  channel  at 
that  place  was  thirty  or  forty  feet  deep.  Nick  realized 
his  peril.  He  was  in  the  deadly  embrace  of  a cool,  des- 
perate man,  and  both  would  surely  drown  before  help 
could  reach  them  unless  somethingunforeseen  happened 
with  in  a few  seconds. 


24  Lawyer  Vernon,  of  Broad  Streets 


CHAPTER  IV. 

LAWYER  VERNON,  OF  BROAD  STREET. 

There  were  deep  marks  of  mental  suffering  upon  the 
face  of  Gideon  Drexel  when  he  entered  the  breakfast 
room  at  Maplewood  on  the  morning  after  his  visit  to 
Nick  Carter.  Mar}r  Storms,  the  nurse,  who  was  acting 
as  waiting  maid  in  the  absence  of  Lizzie  Dolan,  was 
the  only  person  in  the  room  when  the  importer  entered. 
She  w7as  quick  to  notice  that  her  master  looked  five 
ye ars  older  than  when  she  had  seen  him  last. 

“Is  breakfast  ready,  Mary?”  he  inquired  in  a voice 
that  was  husky,  as  if  from  a cold. 

“It  will  be  served  at  once,  sir.  Shall  I call  the 
ladies?” 

“Have  they  not  yet  come  down?” 

“Miss  Dolly  has.  She  went  out  half  an  hour  ago — 
met  Mr.  Vale  on  the  terrace  and  walked  down  the 

avenue  with  him.” 

“I  don’t  like  that  man,”  thought  Mr.  Drexel;  “but 
if  he  will  marry  the  girl  and  rid  me  of  my  obligations 
t ) her,  he  will  be  of  some  service.  Helen  says  he  is 
very  much  in  love  with  Miss  Meredith.  They  certainly 
have  been  a great  deal  together  by  themselves  lately.” 
Suddenly  turning  to  Mrs.  Storms,  who  was  ]?usy 
arranging  the  table  service,  Drexel  inquired  : 

“Mary,  what  do  you  know  about  this  man  Vale?” 
She  was  in  the  act  of  lifting  the  cover  from  a dish, 
and  a crash  followed  the  query.  The  cover  fell  from 
her  hands  upon  the  dish  and  both  were  shattered. 


Lawyer  Vernon,  of  Broad  Street.  25 

A flush,  apparently  of  mortification,  suffused  her  face, 
and  she  exclaimed ; 

“Mercy!  How  awkward  l am  growing!” 

Then,  in  answer  to  Mr.  Drexel’s  question,  she  said : 
“What  should  I know  of  the  young  gentleman,  sir? 
He  seems  to  be  a very  agreeable  sort  of  person,  I’m 
sure;  and  he  is  certainly  quite  handsome.  Mrs.  Drexel 
kn6w  him  before  he  came  to  Maplewood,  did  she  not?” 
“No.  Helen  never  saw  him  before  he  called  with  a 
letter  of  introduction  from  her  uncle.  I wish  he  would 
finish  his  business  in  this  neighborhood,  whatever  it 
may  be,  and  go  away;  for  a feeling  of  uneasiness  pos- 
sesses me  every  time  he  comes  into  my  presence.” 

Mrs.  Storms  watched  the  importer  with  a covert 
glance,  and  said  to  herself : ' 

“I  wonder  if  he  can  suspect?  Something  has  aroused 
doubts  in  his  mind,  that’s  clear;  and  I’d  give  consider- 
able to  discover  what  they  are.  It’s  a desperate  plot; 
but  if  it  succeeds  Clinton  will  be  rich,  and  I’ll  be  the 
happiest  woman  in  America.” 

Her  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a 
showily  dressed,  tall,  handsome,  brunette,  whose  face 
was  covered  with  an  unusual  amount  of  powder,  and 
whose  age  would  be  well  adjudged  as  twenty-five  years. 

This  was  Helen  Narcote  Drexel,  second  wife  of  the 
millionaire  owner  of  Maplewood,  and  mother  of  the  ab- 
ducted child. 

She  hastened  to  her  husband’s  side,  and,  with  a vper~ 
turbation  which  most  certainly  was  natural,  inquired  : 
“Gideon,  have  you  heard  nothing  this  morning?” 
The  importer  looked  into  her  handsome,  whitened 
face  for  a moment,  and  then  shook  his  head  slowly. 
“Nothing.” 

“But  your  detective  should  beep  you  informed  of  his 
movements,  should  he  not?” 


26  Lawyer  Vernon,  of  Broad  Street. 

“No,  That  is  not  a detective’s  way  of  doing  busir 
ness.  He  likes  to  conceal  his  work  even  from  his  em- 
ployer.” 

“You  are  quite  sure  you  cautioned  him  not  to  come 
to  Maplewood?” 

“I  gave  him  to  understand  it  was  not  necessary.  He 
surely  does  not  intend  to  come  here  for  a personal  in- 
vestigation, else  he  would  not  have  plied  me  so  persist- 
ently and  exhaustively  with  questions?” 

“And  did  he?  What  were  they  about?” 

“Why,  about  the  disappearance  of  Daisy,  of  course.” 

“Yes!  yes!  I know.  Of  course;  but  was  that  all?” 

“All?  Why,  what  else  could  he  have  made  inquiry 
about?” 

The  old  man’s  eyes  wrere  fixed  upon  her  face  as  he 
spoke.  Her  eyes,  in  turn,  fell  under  his  gaze.  Then 
she  threw  her  face  into  her  bands,  and,  turning,  walked 
across  the  room,  just  as  the  form  of  a beautiful  young 
girl  appeared  in  the  open  window  which  served  as  an 
entrance  from  the  veranda. 

The  girl  was  Dolly  Meredith,  stepdaughter  of  the 
importer.  She  was  rather  below  the  medium  height, 
a perfect  blonde,  with  golden  hair,  blue  eyes,  a face  for 
an  artist’s  model  of  the  Madonna,  and  a form  exqui- 
sitely molded. 

There  was  a troubled  look  upon  her  fair  face  as  she 
met  the  eyes  of  her  stepfather. 

“You  have  been  out  to  meet  young  Yale?”  he  said. 

Her  face  flushed,  then  grew  unusually  pale;  but  she 
made  no  reply. 

“What  is  his  relationship  to  you?” 

The  words  came  in  a tone  wholly  devoid  of  gentle- 
ness or  filial  feeling. 

Their  effect  upon  Miss  Meredith  was  startling.  She 
Jh&d  lost  color  at  his  first  question,  but  now  her  face  be-; 


Lawyer  Vernon,  of  Broad  Street.  27 

came  almost  death-like.  She  staggered  and  clutched 
desperately  at  a chair,  thus  saving  herself  from  sinking 
to  the  floor,  in  the  weakness  brought  on  by  that  inquiry, 

“What — what  do  you  mean?”  she  gasped. 

“I  mean,  has  he  asked  you  to  be  his  wife?” 

. The  color  came  back  into  her  face  once  more. 
Straightening  herself  as  she  regained  her  composure, 
Dolly  replied,  in  a voice  which,  however,  was  not  very 
stead  v : 

“I  have  not  yet  been  so  honored.” 

She  turned  toward  the  table  and  met  the  eyes  of  Mrs. 
Drexel.  The  latter’s  lips  bore  the  faintest  tinge  of  a 
sneer. 

A look  of  defiance  was  flashed  back. 

Lifting  her  gaze  from  the  face  of  her  enemy,  she  sud- 
denly became  aware  that  Mrs.  Storms  was  looking  at 
her  with  a mysterious  stare. 

“Do  they  all  suspect  the  truth?”  she  thought.  “I 
must  warn  him,  and  he  must  go  away  before  it  is  too 
late.  ’ ’ 

At  the  breakfast  table  Mrs.  Drexel  said  to  her  hus- 
band : 

“I  do  not  know  how  we  are  to  get  along  without  a 
maid  another  day.  When  you  go  to  the  city  do  try  to 
send  one  out  here.” 

“I  am  not  going  to  the  city  to-day,”  replied  Mr. 
Drexel;  “but  I expect  a maid  and  a gardener.  An 
agency  promised  to  send  a person  for  each  position  to- 
day.” - . 

“Not  going  to  the  city?  Why,  I thought  you  said 
you  would — that  your — er — you  promised  to  make  a — 
you  know  what — to-day.” 

Mr.  Drexel’s  face  was  marred  by  the  shadow  of  a 
frown  for  a brief  moment  onlv. 

V 

Then,  as  he  arose  from  the  table,  he  said  • 


2 8 Lawyer  Vernon,  of  Broad  Street. 

“Trust  me  about  that  affair.  I have  not  forgotten 
it.” 

He  walked  out  upon  the  lawn,  and  sought  the  soli- 
tude of  a rustic  seat  beneath  a great  maple  which  stood 
about  one  hundred  yards  from  the  house,  on  the  edge  of 
the  carriage  drive. 

“ Why  cannot  I drive  that  distrust  of  Helen  from  my 
heart!  The  detective  did  not  directly  accuse  her  of 
being  in  the  plot  which  culminated  in  the  abduction  of 
Daisy  ; but  surety  his  words  had  a meaning  wrhich  could 
not  be  misconstrued.  Oh,  is  there  no  one  I can  trust!” 
he  moaned. 

“ Yes;  trust  me,”  came  a voice  at  his  side. 

He  sprang  to  his  feet,  to  stand  face  to  face  with  a 
middle-aged,  clerical-looking  man,  clad  in  a Prince 
Albert  coat,  and  holding  a green  silk  bag  in  his  left 
hand. 

“Who  are  you,  sir?”  gasped  the  astoiiished  impor- 
ter. 

“Keep  cool,  and  don’t  let  anyone  who  may  be  watch- 
ing us  from  the  house  yonder  suspect  for  a moment  that 
I am  not  expected,”  rapidly  spoke  the  stranger,  as  he 
coolly  grasped  Mr.  Drexel’s  hand  and  shook  it  cordially 
without  resistance  from  its  astounded  owner. 

“Who  are  you,  sir?”  repeated  Drexel.  “I  don’t 
know  you.” 

“Probably  not  in  this  guise;  but  when  you  asked  me 
yesterday  when  you  would  see  me  again  I said ” 

“What?  You  are ” 

“Nick  Carter,  sub  rosa ; but  to  everybody  else 
Edwnrd  Vernon,  attorney  and  counselor  at  law,  Broad 
Street,  New  York.” 

“Well?”  ' ' | m 

“I  must  have  half  an  hour  or  more  of  private  conver- 
sation with  you.  Is  there  a place  in  your  house  where 

7 , - 7 -77  : • ■ *;>  ■>  Sj.7 

...  ■ ' ' ...  - ■ • 


Lawyer  Vernon,  of  Broad  Street.  29 

no  one  can  possibly  overhear  what  passes  between  us?” 
“Yes — -my  private  office.” 

“Good!  Then  you  will  have  private  business  with 
your  attorney  in  that  room,  and  must  not  be  disturbed 
while  I am  with  you.” 

“Ah!  A good  excuse.  I can  consult  you  about  my 

will.” 

“The  very  thing.  And,  before  I leave,  wee’ll  have  it 
drawn,  signed,  witnessed  and  executed.” 

“But ” 

“Never  mind,  now.  Conduct  me  to  the  house.” 

In  the  front  hall  they  met  Mrs.  Drexfel  coming  from 
the  parlor.  The  meeting  was  not  accidental  on  her 
part,  as  Nick  knew. 

Mr.  Drexel  introduced  his  attorney,  Edward  Vernon, 
of  Broad  Street. 

A flash  of  something  like  pleasure  lighted  up  Mrs. 
DrexePs  eyes,  as  she  graciously  offered  the  supposed 

lawyer  her  hand. 

Nick  bowed  low  over  it,  and  then,  while  exchanging 
a few  commonplace  remarks  with  the  lady,  he  read  her 
face  as  he  would  read  a book. 

“Wholly  without  honor,  and  deeply  designing.  I 
was  not  mistaken  in  my  analysis  based  upon  her  bus- 
band’s  information,”  was  Nick’s  mental  verdict. 


3° 


Xick  Recognizes  Mr.  Vale. 


CHAPTER  V. 

IX  WHICH  XIOK  RECOGNIZES  MR.  VALE,  oF  NEW 

ORLEANS. 


Mr.  Deexel  informed  his  wife  thas  he  desired  to 
remain  undisturbed  while’xdoseted  with  Mr.  Vernon; 
and  then  the  two  men  went  into  the  room  used  by  the 
importer  as  his  private  office. 

A quick  glance  around,  convinced  Nick  that  Mr. 
Drexel  had  spoken  truly  when  he  declared  that  this 
place  would  be  perfectly  safe  for  a confidential  business 
interview. 

The  master  of  Maplewood  locked  the  door  behind 
him,  and  motioned  Nick  to  a chair.  Then  he  showed 
his  anxiety  to  get  at  the  latter’s  business  by  a two- word 
exclamation. 

“Now  then!”  ->v 

“I  have  some  news  for  you.” 

4 About  the  child?” 

“Not  directly;  about  your  nephew.” 

“Ah!”  - ^ 

The  word  was  almost  hissed  from  between  his 
clinched  teeth. 

“Frank  Willoughby  sent  you  a message.” 

“Sent  me  a message?” 

Nick  nodded. 

“Bv  whom?”  _ - ' / 

“By  me-  I have  come  to  deliver  it/ 

“ Why,  what  message  could  be  have  to  send?” 


31 


Nick  Recognizes  Mr.  Yale. 

“It  was  this:  ‘ When  you  see  Gideon  Drexel,  give 
him  my  grateful  consideration,  and  tell  him  that  his 
millions  do  not  give  my  mind  a moment’s  thought. 
He  will  some  day  understand  that  there  is  something 
sweeter  to  me  in  this  world  than  all  his  money.’  ” 
“What  dxl  he  mean  by  the  something  that  is  sweeter 
to  him  than  all  mj  money?’" 

“I  don’t  know.  Do  you?” 

“Revenge?” 

“That  is  the  way  I took  it.” 

“Where  was  he  when  he  gave  you  that  message?7’ 
“In  the  Hudson  River,  near  Poughkeepsie.” 
“What!” 

Nick  smiled  at  the  importer’s  astonishment, 

“I  said  he  wTas  in  the  Hudson  River  when  ne  said 
that,  swimming  for  shore.” 

“And  where  were  you?” 

“I  was  also  in  the  river,  swimming  toward  the 
steamer  Albany.” 

“I  don’t  undersand  all  this.”  * 

“Then  listen,  and  I’ll  explain.” 

Nick  hurriedly  related  the  story  of  his  chase  after 
Willoughby,  which  ended  in  the  upsetting  of  the  rowr~ 
boat,  and  their  fall  into  the  river,  each  clutched  in  the 
other’s  deadly  embrace. 

“I  very  quickly  realized  that  neither  of  us  would  live 
under  those  conditions  until  a boat  could  be  lowered 
from  the  Albany  and  sent  to  the  rescue,”  said  Nick,  in 
concluding  his  narrative  of  the  adventure.  “And  as  I 
was  not  quite  ready  to  give  up  the  detective  business,  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  accept  the  only  way  out  of  the 
deadly  danger.” 

“Which  was?” 

“To  declare  my  business  with  your  nephew  a draw.” 
“Please  explain.” 


32  Nick  Recognizes  Mr.  Vale. 

“I  shook  his  hand  from  my  throat  long  enough  to 
say , * Suppose  we  postpone  further  proceedings  in  this 
business  till  some  future  time?’ 

i 

4 4 He  is  a very  shrewd  young  man,  for  in  an  instant 
he  took  in  my  meaning  and  replied : 

44  ‘Agreed.  Promise  that  you  will  not  pursue  me 
after  I let  go  my  hold,  nor  permit  me  to  be  molested  by 
any  one  from  the  Albany,  and  I’ll  strike  a truce  with 
you.’ 

“There  was  no  time  to  lose.  I realized  that  I was 
dealing  with  a desperate  man,  whose  life  would  go  out 
with  my  own~rather  than  I should  have  the  chance  to 
force  him  to  disclose  the  hiding,  place  of  the  abducted 
child.  I,  therefore,  immediately  agreed  to  his  proposi- 
tion. We  loosened  our  deadly  holds  upon  each  other’s 
throats  and  separated— not  any  too  soon. 

“He,  as  well  as  I,  had  to  rest  on  the  surface  of  the 
water  for  a few  moments  to  regain  breath  and  strength. 
Then  he  struck  out  for  the  shore,  and  I waited  patiently 
for  the  boat  which  the  captain  of  the  Albany  had  sent 
to  my  rescue.” 

“And  where  did  he  go?” 

“He  swam  ashore  and  disappeared.  I landed  at 
Poughkeepsie  and  went  back  to  the  city.” 

“Yet  Superintendent  Byrnes  said  you  never  fail.” 

“So  he  did.  The  superintendent  may  be  a little  too 
enthusiastic  over  his  belief  in  my  professional  abilities. 
But  in  the  abstract  he  was  not  far  wrong  when  he  told 
you  I never  fail.  This  adventure  with  your  nephew 
was  not  a failure— merely  a slight  delay  in  the  work 
before  me.  In  the  end  you  will  find  I have  not  failed 
vou. 

“I  hope  so.” 

“Before  we  proceed  further,  you  must  make  a will.” 

“I  intended  to  do  that  to-morrow.” 


33 


Nick  Recognizes  Mr.  Vale 

“You  must  do  it  to-day — right  now,” 

“But  how?  I must  have  a lawyer ” 

“I  am  a lawyer,”  smiled  Nick;  “for  the  occasion,  at 
least.  The  will  I want  you  to  make  is  only  intended 
for  a blind.” 

“To  deceive  some  one?” 

“Exactly.” 

“Who?  Willoughby?” 

“He  is  one  of  them.” 

“One  of  them?” 

“Remember  my  theory  that  this  abduction  is  part  of 
a plot,  and  a plot  necessarily  implies  that  there  are 
conspirators.” 

“Whom  do  you  suspect?” 

“I  prefer  not  to  say  at  present.” 

“Well,  about  this  sham  will?” 

“I  have  it  drawn  up.  It  is  here  in  my  bag.” 

Nick  drew  forth  a formidable  looking  legal  docu- 
ment, which  he  unfolded  and  handed  to  Mr.  Drexel. 
The  latter  glanced  over  the  contents  and  exclaimed  : 
“Why,  this  practically  means  nothing  at  all.  It 
leaves  my  estate  one  of  inheritance  under  the  laws,  the 
same  as  if  there  was  no  will  whatever.” 

“Certainly.  I said  it  was  only  a sham.  My  object 
is  to  convey  a belief,  that  you  have  made  your  will  un- 
der an  incentive  from  your  fears  concerning  the  abduc- 
tion. Those  interested  in  the  plot,  whatever  it  may 
be,  will  then  form  their  own  opinions  of  the  nature  of 
the  will.” 

“And  yet  there  will  be  no  will?” 

* 

“No.  And  I’d  advise  you  to  make  none  other  till 
we  see  what  will  be  the  effect  of  the  news  of  this  sup- 
posed will’s  existence.” 

“Tell  me,  Mr.  Carter,  what  your  object  is  in  work- 
ing off  this  deception.” 


34 


Nick  Recognizes  Mr.  Vale. 

“Do  you  insist  upon  knowing?’ ’ 

“Yes.”  ' 

“It  is  to  put  an  extra  guard  over  your  life.” 

Mr.  Drexel  turned  pale. 

“ You  think  my  life  is  in  danger?” 

Nick  remained  silent  ten  seconds  before  he  replied: 
“It  will  do  no  barm  to  take  every  precaution.” 

“But  I do  not  see  how  this  bogus  will,  which  means 
nothing,  can  guard  my  life.” 

“Probably  not.  I can’t  explain;  but  in  good  time 
yon  will  know.” 

“Nobody  will  have  any  idea  of  its  supposed  provi- 
sions.” 

y 1 

“Oh!  yes,  they  will,”  grinned  Nick;  “otherwise  it 
would  be  useless  waste  of  time  to  pretend  to  execute  it.” 
“Why,  how?  You  will  not  read  it  to  the  witnesses, 
surel}’;  for  then  the  most  simple-minded  would  see  that 
it  is  worded  to  mean  nothing.” 

“Read  it?  Certainly  not.  But  I shall  make  a few 
remarks  to  the  witnesses  which  will  show  you  clearly 
the  impression  it  is  intended  to  convey.  You  must  not 
show  surprise  at  my  words,  and  under  no  circumstances 
indicate  afterward  that  the  supposed  will  is  other  in  its 
provisions  than  what  my  words  suggest.  Now  call  in 
your  household.” 

“All  of  them?” 

“As  many  as  you  cau  reach.” 

Mr.  Drexel  went  to  the  door,  unlocked  it,  and  rang  a 
bell.  Mrs.  Storms  answered. 

“Where  is  Mrs.  Drexel?” 

“On  the  lawn.” 

“And  Miss  Meredith?” 

“In  her  room,  I think.”  - k 

“Ask  them  to  come  here.  Then  find  Martin  and  the 
cook  and  bring  them  to  this  room.” 


Nick  Recognizes  Mr.  Vale.  35 

Mrs.  Storms  hastened  away  with  a flush  of  excite- 
ment on  her  face,  which  Mr.  Drexel  did  not  notice. 

Nick  placed  himself  so  as  to  get  the  benefit  of  full 
light  upon  the  face  of  each  person  who  entered  the  room. 

Mrs.  Drexel  was  the  first  to  respond.  Her  counte- 
nance was  animated  with  a look  of  expectancy  which 
Nick  was  not  surprised  to  see. 

Then  came  Miss  Meredith;  and,  as  the  great  detect- 
ive was  introduced  to  her,  he  could  not  conceal- the  ad- 
miration which  her  great  beauty  aroused  within  him. 

“Unless  my  first  impression  is  wrong,  here  is  one 
whose  assistance  I may  need  to  help  me  out.  Surely 
in  one  so  beautiful,  there  can  be  no  guile,”  he  thought. 

At  Mary  Storms,  Mrs.  Crosby  the  cook,  and  Martin 
Maloney,  the  coachman  and  hostler,  he  glanced  hastily; 
but  each  glance  was  a magnifying  search  in  which 
character  was  under  the  lens  of  his  analytical  eye. 

The  cook  he  dismissed  without  a thought.  Her 
black,  homely  face  and  stupid  features  pronounced  the 
negress  incapable  of  enough  intelligence  for  good  or 
evil  action.  She  was  a human  machine — nothing  more. 

He  noted  the  shrewd  features  and  uneasv,  restless 
eyes  of  Mrs.  Storms,  however,  and  mentally  made  this 
memorandum : 

“That  woman  will  do  to  watch.” 

The  coachman  caused  his  gaze  to  linger.  There  was 
something  about  Martin  Maloney  which  Nick  could  not 
reconcile  with  his  ideas  of  a coachman.  The  man  was 
young,  handsomely  proportioned,  rather  prepossessing 
in  looks,  and  lacked  that  uneasy,  awkward  want  of  self- 
command  so  common  among  servants  when  called  into 
the  company  of  their  superiors ; and  there  was  something 
in  the  fellow’s  shifting  blue  eyes  which  aroused  an  un- 
usual amount  of  interest  in  Nick. 

“This  man  is  also  worth  watching,  ' ^ the- detect- 


36  Nick  Recognizes  Mr.  Vale. 

ive’s  unspoken  measurement  of  Mr.  Drexel’s  man 
servant.  “I must  find  out  more  about  Martin  Maloney 
as  soon  as  possible.” 

Mr.  Drexel,  addressing  his  assembled  household, 
said : 

“My  attorney  will  explain  my  object  in  calling  you 
all  together  in  this  room.” 

Just  as  Nick  was  about  to  speak,  there  was  an  unex- 
pected interruption.  A young  man,  clad  in  a light- 
colored  summer  suit,  made  his  appearance  in  the  door- 
way. Pretending  an  embarrassment,  which  to  Nick’s 
trained  eye  was  clearly  counterfeited,  the  young  man 

halted  on  the  threshold  and  began  to  mumble  an 

«* . . 

apology. 

In  the  few  moments  which  the  intruder  occupied  with 
his  apparent  desire  to  assure  Mr.  Drexel  that  he  meant 
no  intrusion,  Nick  gave  a quick  glance  around  the 
room,  and  the  result  was  even  more  astonishing  than  he 
could  have  expected. 

There  was  on  Dolly  Meredith’s  face  a flush  as  if  of 
anger;  Mrs.  Storms’  brows  were  gathered  in  si,  frown; 
the  coachman  glared  at  the  newcomer  with  a look 
plainly  one  of  hate;  and  Mrs.  Drexel’s  face  alternately 
paled  and  flushed  under  some  half-suppressed  excite- 
ment. 

“Now,  by  all  the  gods  of  ancient  mythology !”  was 
Nick’s  inward  exclamation,  “this  thing  is  growing 
interesting ! At  least  four  of  these  people  are  interested 
in  yonder  man,  and  this  time  I do  not  fail  to  fully 
recognize  him.” 

Another  scene  flashed  upon  Nick’s  mind — the  scene 
wherein  he  had  met  a man  coming  out  of  No.  - — West 
Twenty-fourth  Street  as  he  was  ascending  the  steps  to 
make  inquiry  about  Prank  Wi  Hough  by* 


I 


Nick  Recognizes  Mr.  Vale.  37 

«#» 

I couldn  t place  him  then,”  Nick  was  saying  to 
himself;  “but  now  I know  him  as  I know  my  own  por- 
trait. If  he  is  in  this  plot,  and  it  seems  as  if  he  is,  then 
thefe  is  at  least  one  very  shrewd  and  dangerous  villain 
for  me  to  deal  with.  ” 


% 

1 


\ 


\ 


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'?  - 


38  Nick  Carter  Has  a Surprise. 


A :r  ■ • 

, 1 CHAPTER  VI 

NICK  CARTER  HAS  A SURPRISE. 

It  took  but  a few  seconds  for  all  this  to  flash  through 
Nick’s  mind. 

“I  beg  leave  to  withdraw,  Mr,  Drexel,  and  assure 
you  at  the  same  time  that  I meant  no  impertinent  in- 
trusion. ” 

The  importer  shot  a quick,  questioning  glance  toward 
Nick. 

“If  the  gentleman  is  a friend  of  the  family,”  said  the 
supposed  lawyer,  “let  him  remain,  by  all  means.” 

“Then  come  in,  Mr.  Yale,  and  permit  me  to  intro- 
duce you  to  my  attorney,  Mr.  Vernon,  of  New  York 
City,”  responded  the  importer.  “Mr.  Vernon,  this  is 
Mr.  Vale,  of  New  Orleans — a very  intimate  friend  of 
my  wife’s  uncle.” 

As  Nick  shook  hands  with  Vale,  he  was  thinking: 

“Mr.  Vale,  of  New  Orleans,  the  intimate  friend  of 
Mrs.  Drexel’s  uncle  will  be  a very  much  surprised  man 
when  he  becomes  better  acquainted  with  Lawyer 
Vernon,  of  New  York  City.”  * ^ 

This  is,  however,  what  he  said : 

“Any  friend  of  my  old  client,  Mr.  Drexel,  or  of  any 
member  of  his  family,  is  my  friend,  too,  if  I am  per- 
mitted to  assume  such  relationship.  Be  seated,  Mr. 
Vale.  You  have  come  in  at  a time  when  as  many  per- 
sons as  know  Mr.  Drexel  intimately  are  particularly 
desired  to  be  witnesses  to  what  is  about  to  occur.” 

He  then  r^ked  up  a written  instrument  which  fee 


Nick  Carter  Has  a Surprise.  39 

held  in  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he  leaned  upon 
the  table  for  a support.  The  assembled  little  company 
turned  to  him  with  well-depicted  curiosity  on  their 
faces. 

“Mr.  Drexel  has  summoned  you  here,  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen, into  his  presence  to  witness  the  signing,  seal- 
ing and  execution  of  his  will,  which  is  made  a seeming 
necessity  by  the  sad  incident  of  night  before  last. 

“Only  two  witnesses  are  necessary  to  attest  his  signa- 
ture; but  the  importance  of  the  conditions  of  this  instru- 
ment is  so  great  that  he  desires  every  member  of  his 
household  and  you,  too,  Mr.  Vale,  as  an  intimate  friend 
of  the  family,  to  bear  witness  that  he  is  perfectly  sane, 
and  wholly  responsible  for  this  free  and  voluntary  act.’* 

Nick  noticed  a quick,  furtive  glance  pass  between 
Vale  and  Mrs.  Drexel. 

“When  a man  leaves  the  bulk  of  his  fortune  to  some 

f , , ...  V • , 

eleemosynary  purpose — dependent  on  a contingency 
• — he  cannot  be  too  cautious  to  guard  against  any  possi- 
ble attempt  to  set  aside  the  bequest  in  a court  of  law 
after  bis  death.  The  fate  of  the  late  Samuel  J.  Tilden’s 
will  is  a warning  to  men  who  desire  to  dispose  of  their 
property  in  a similar  manner.” 

Without  appearing  to  do  so,  Nick  kept  Mrs.  Drexel 
and  Vale  under  his  eyes  while  he  threw  out  this  broad 
hint  of  the  contents  of  the  will.  What  he  expected  to 
see  occurred.  Their  optical  telegraph  once  more  flashed 
a mutual  message.  This  time  it  was  plainly  one  of 
alarm  and  disappointment. 

“The  plan  works  like  a charm,”  mused  Nick. 

Without  further  words  the  pseudo  lawyer  laid  the 
document  on  the  table  and  asked  Mr.  Drexel  to  sign  it, 
which  the  latter  did. 

“Now  we  will  need  the  signature  of  two  witnesses,” 
he  said,  h»  ^‘ng  around  the  room.  “It  is  best  to  take 


40  Nick  Carter  Has  a Surprise. 

Jf  '-v  \ 

two  who  are  young  and  not  in  any  way  related  to  the 
family.  You,  my  good  man,  may  be  the  first.  ” 

He  pointed  to  Martin  Maloney,  who,  after  a slight 
hesitation,  approached  and  affixed  his  signature.  The 
coachman  seemingly  wrote  with  great  difficulty  in  a 
cramped,  straggling  hand;  but  Nick’s  quick  eye  noted 
the  fact  that  the  witness  held  the  pen  in  the  proper  way, 
and  that  the  stroking  and  shading  were  those  of  a good 
penman.  ✓ 

“Mr.  Maloney  is  dissembling,”  was  the  detective’s" 
s silent  comment. 

“Now,  then,  Mr.  Yale,  if  you  will  kindly  oblige.” 

There  was  a gleam  of  something  like  satisfaction  in 
Mr.  Yale’s  eyes  as  he  came  forward  and  dashed  off  his  } 
signature  in  a free,  bold  hand. 

When  Nick  gently  pressed  the  blotter  over  Mr. 
Vale’s  signature  he  was  gratifying  his  soul  with  a sup- 
pressed chuckle  of  delight. 

“That  is  the  neatest  trap  I ever  sprang  upon  an  un- 
suspecting scoundrel,”  he  thought.  “I  now  have  his 
signature,  and  I would  not  give  it  up  for  a cool  thou- 
sand. Luck  runs  right  into  my  hand.” 

“I  presume,  Mr.  Vernon,  you  will  take  my  husband’s 
will  back  to  the  city  with  you  for  safe  keeping,”  said 
Mrs.  Drexel. 

“Yes,  madam;  I surely  Will  when  I go.  But  Mr. 
Drexel  has  been  so  kind  as  to  invite  me  to  stay  here  at 
his  charming  home,  as  his  guest  for  a few  days;  and  as 
this  is  the  dull  season  in  our  profession,  and  as  I really 
need  a few  days’  relaxation  from  business,  I have  thank- 
fully accepted.” 

A look  of  consternation  at  first  came  into  Mrs. 
Drexel’s  face,  which  soon  changed,  under  the  influence 
of  some  thought,  to  one  of  satisfaction;  all  of  which 
Nick  noted  as  if  he, saw  it  on  a printed  page. 


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Nick  Carter  Has  a Surprise. 


41 


Nick  was  gratified  to  see  Mr.  Drexel  receive  this  bold 
announcement,  which  must  have  been  unexpected,  with- 
out any  more  show  of  surprise  than  a quick  elevation  of 
the  eyes  and  a slight  compression  of  the  lips. 

“I  hope,  madam,  that  my  short  visit  will  not  be  un- 
pleasant to  you.” 

“Why,  certainly  not,  Mr.  Vernon.  It  will  be  a 
gre?ft  pleasure  to  us  all,  or  would  be,  did  it  not  come 
during  the  time  of  our  worry  over  our  little  girl’s  dis- 
appearance.” 

Mrs.  Drexel  dropped  her  face  into  her  hands  with 
affected  emotion;  but  to  Nick  the  simulation  was  as 
plain  as  if  it  had  been  the  work  of  a poor  actress  on  the 
stage. 

“We  are  a little  short  in  house  service,  Mr.  Vernon; 
but  we  will  strive  to  make  your  visit  pleasant,  ” the 
lady  said  almost  directly,  as  she  raised  her  head  and 
pretended  to  shake  off  her  grief  with  a mighty  effort. 

“Please,  Mrs.  Drexel,  there  is  a man  and  a woman 
in  the  kitchen  who  say  they  were  sent  here  from  the 
city  in  answer  to  Mr.  Drexel’s  application  for  servants.  ” 

It  was  Mrs.  Storms  who  spoke.  She  had  left  the 
room  immediately  after  the  signing  of  the  will. 

“How  fortunate,”  smiled  Mrs.  Drexel.  “I  hope 
they  will  suit.” 

“They  must  suit,  my  dear,”  responded  the  importer. 
“At  least  we  must  give  them  a trial.  Servants  are 
very  hard  to  get.” 

“Oh,  I shall  take  the  woman  and  be  thankful  for  the 
chance,  though  I know  she  will  not  ba  so  useful  as 
Lizzie  was.  You  can  do  as  you  like  with  this  man.” 

“Well,  if  Chick  and  Ida  don’t  give  satisfaction  all 
around,  they’ll  not  do  credit  to  my  teaching,”  muttered 
Nick.  “Now  that  we  three  have  secured  access  to  this 
nest  of  conspirators,  it  will  be  strange  if  we  do  not  turn 


42  Nick  Carter  Has  a Surprise. 

things  up  satisfactorily  to  Mr.  Drexel’s  interest  within 
the  next  few  days.’ ’ 

The  new  servants  gave  their  names  as  Katrine  and 
Karl  Koenig,  brother  and  sister,  who  had  just  recently 
arrived  from  the  old  country.  Their  principal  short- 
coming as  American  servants  laid  in  the  fact  that  nei- 
ther could  speak  nor  understand  any  language  but 
German.  Fortunately,  Mr.  Drexel  and  his  wife*  as 
well  as  Mrs.  Storms,  were  able  to  converse  in  that 
tongue  quite  readily,  a possibility  on  which  Nick  had 
taken  considerable  chances  when  he  instructed  Chick 
and  Ida  in  the  parts  they  were  to  play  at  Maplewood. 

So  the  two  new  servants  were  immediately  installed 
in  and  about  the  house  where  their  chief  was  received 
as  a favorite  guest. 

4 4 Your  baggage  will  be  here  soon,  Mr.  Yernon — or  is 
it  at  the  station  now?”  asked  Mrs.  Drexel,  some  few 
hours  later,  as  she,  in  company  with  the  other  members 
of  the  family,  arose  from  luncheon. 

44 1 will  telegraph  to  my  landlady  for  it,  to-night. 
To  tell  the  truth,  I had  no  idea  of  remaining  in  this 
charming  spot  until  your  husband  so  kindly  extended 
the  invitation  as  we  walked  up  the  avenue  together  this 
morning.” 

Therefore,  that  same  afternoon  Nick  walked  to  the 
railroad  station,  about  a mille  distant,  refusing  his 
host’s  offer  to  have  Maloney  drive  him  over.  It  was 
4 4 bet  ween  trains”  when  he  reached  the  station,  and  no  v 
one  was  there  at  the  time  but  the  operator. 

Nick  wrote  out  this  dispatch  and  handed  it  to  the 
young  man  at  the  telegraph  instrument : 

u Mrs.  Carter,  No. — Street,  New  York  City. 

Please  express  to  me  at  this  place,  caTe  Gideon  Drexel, 
Trunk  • G.  ’ Edward  Vebncm*” 


Nick  Carter  Has  a Surprise.  43 

• - • ' . . > '.‘i  ' , < t < 

“ She’  11  know  who  it  is;  and  the  name  will  give  her 
the  address  for  the  trank,”  soliloquized  Nick. 

“Mr.  Operator,  please  send  this  at  once,”  he  said, 
handing  the  written  message  through  the  window. 

As  he  turned  to  leave,  a man  dressed  in  a homespun 
suit,  and  wearing  a full  beard,  came  in  from  the  door 
opposite  the  track,  and,  approaching  the  desk,  on  which 
telegraph  blanks  were  scattered,  he  began  slowly  pen- 
ning a message  on  one  of  them. 

Nick  gave  him  little  or  no  attention  and  left  the  fel- 
low struggling  over  his  work.  As  the  detective  walked 
out  he  was  aware  that  the  operator  had  just  begun  the 
transmission  of  his  message  to  the  city. 

The  afternoon  was  very  warm,  and  Nick  made  a 
detour  on  his  return  to*Maplewood  so  as  to  pass  through 
apiece  of  heavy  woodland  which  lay  a little  to  the 
south  of  the  public  highway.  The  wood  looked,  from 
a distance  temptingly  cool,  and  Nick  was  not  disap- 
pointed in  finding  it  so. 

Several  hundred  yards  from  its  edge,  he  found  a ae* 
lightful  resting-place  on  a large  shaded  rock  at  the  very 
foot  ot  a small  cascade,  which  came  tumbling  down  a 
rather  ragged  declivity  some  thirty  feet  in  height. 

On  this  stone  seat  he  sat  down  to  rest  and  think  over 
this  strange  case  which  he  had  undertaken  to  work  up.- 

His  perfect  confidence  in  the  seclusion  of  this  out-of- 
the-way  place  threw  him  off  his  guard,  and  the  noise  of 
the  waterfall  probably  kept  from  his  ears  the  sound  of 
the  carefully  guarded  footsteps  of  an  approaching 
person. 

He  was  suddenly  taken  completely  by  surprise  by  a 
voice  almost  at  his  side  and  slightly  above  him,  ex- 
claiming: 

“A  charming  spot,  is  it  not — Mr.  Nicholas  Carter?” 

W ithout  showing  the  least  alarm,  or  any  sign  of  the 


44  Nick  Carter  Has  a Surprise. 

surprise  these  words  created  in  his  mind,  Nick  glanced 
up. 

There,  not  six  feet  away,  stood  the  man  he  had  left 
in  the  telegraph  station  half  an  hour  before. 

The  man  had  his  arms  half  folded  in  front  of  him, 
one  of  them  forming  a rest  for  the  right  hand,  in  which 
was  held  a self -cocking  revolver,  the  muzzle  of  which 
was  so  pointed  that  the  detective’s  eyes  looked  straight 
up  into  the  deadly  barrel  and  six  loaded  chambers. 

4 4 Charming  is  no  word  for  it,  Mr. . Ah!  You 

have  the  advantage  of  me  there,  my  dear  sir,”  smiled 
Nick  nonchalentlv. 

V 

“That’s  so,  I have,”  was  the  equally  cool  response; 
while  that  deadly  weapon  was  not  permitted  to  waver 
a hair’s  breadth  from  its  deadly  angle.  4 4 Let  me  intro- 
duce myself.  Maybe  you  have  heard  of  me  before — 
Mr.  Nicholas  Carter.  I have  no  card,  and  if  I had  my 
hands  are  so  arranged  that  it  would  really  be  awkward 
for  me  to  present  it.  However,  I think  you  have  not 
quite  forgotten  Gideon  Drexel’s  nephew — Frank  Wil- 
loughby.” 


\ 


\ 


DrexeTs  Nephew  Declares  Himself.  45 


CHAPTER  VII. 

GIDEON  DREXEL’S  NEPHEW  DECLARES  HIMSELF. 

To  say  that  Nick  Carter  was  surprised  when  this  man 
standing  over  him,  with  a murderous  looking  pistol 
pointed  at  his  head,  announced  himself  to  be  Frank 
Willoughby,  is  but  to  record  the  truth.  But  not  a 
muscle  of  the  detective’s  face  or  body  moved,  nor  a 
shade  of  color  changed  in  his  countenance  to  show  it. 
With  the  utmost  indifference,  he  said: 

“How  should  I know  you  when  you  see  fit  to  honor 
me  with  your  presence  while  so  thoroughly  disguised?” 
“Yet  I am  not  a detective,  and  therefore  not  such  an 
adept  at  disguising  a3  you  are.  Now  your  masquerad- 
ing costume  is  much  more  artistic  than  mine.  Yet  you 
see  I knew  you  without  an  introduction.” 
p “Yes;  I see.  And  I understand  how  you  made  your 
supposed  discovery.  You  read  telegraphy?” 
“Fluently!” 

“And  heard  the  operator  down  there  transmit  my 
message?” 

“That’s  it. . 

“And  from  the  person  to  whom  it  was  sent  you 
jumped^©  the  conclusion  that- 1 am  Nick  Carter,  the 
detective?” 

The  man  nodded. 

“I  haven’t  admitted  it.” 

“No;  but  you  will.” 

“Ah!  You  think  so?” 

“I  am  sure  of  it.” 


46  Drexel’s  Nephew  Declares  Himself/ 

“Please  state  the  grounds  of  your  assurance — not 
that  pistol,  I hope?' * 

“Not  this  pistol;  no,  sir.*”  ^ 

“Then  why  do  you  keep  me  covered  with  it  so 
closely?* ' * 

“To  make  sure  that  you  will  .patiently  hear  what  I 
have  to  say  to  you." 

“Well,  under  the  circumstances,  I don't  intend  to  re- 
fuse you  a respectful  audience.” 

“ Wisely  spoken.  Now  then,  listen  to  what  I have 
to  say:  You  are  at  Maplewood  in  disguise  and  in  a 

professional  capacity." 

Nick  made  no  reply,  and  the  man  continued : 

“In  some  way  you  have  hit  upon  me  as  the  chief  ras- 
cal on  your  list” 

Nick  nodded. 

“Well,  lam  going  to  convince  you  before  we  part, 
that,  shrewd  a detective  as  your  are,  you  have  made  a 
great  blunder.  ” 

“Going  to  prove  that?  How?” 

“I’ll  begin  right  now  and  in  this  way.” 

Thereupon  he  hung  the  pistol  away  and  dropped  on 
the  rock  at  Nick's  side. 

Had  he  hred  the  revolver  into  the  detective's  face  the 
surprise  of  his  act  could  not  have  been  greater. 

“Is  that  the  act  of  a guilty  man?  I thus  place  my- 
self at  your  mercy,  and  throw  myself  upon  your  spirit 
of  fairness.” 

“Well,  I shall  certainly  hear  all  you  have  to  say 
now,  Willoughby,  and  give  it  due  consideration.” 
“Thank  you.  You  shall  not  regret  that  decision. 
Now  tell  me  what  you  had  do  chance  to  tell  me  in  the 
boat  yesterday;  why  was  I arrested?” 

“Don’t  you  know?” 

“I  am  not  certain.” 


Drexel’s  Nephew  Declares  Himself,  47 

“You  suspect?” 

“Yes.” 

“But  you  deny  being  a party  to  the  crime?” 

“A  party  to  the  crime.  Why,  if  it  was  a crime, 
there  could  be  no  one  implicated  but  me.” 

“Do  you  then,  while  admitting  the  deed,  mean  to 
make  me  believe  you  iiad  no  confederates  in  Maple- 
wood?” 

“Wait  a minute.  I begin  to  suspect  that  we  are 
pulling  on  different  lines.  What  crime  are  you  speak- 
ing of?” 

“The  abduction.” 

“The  what?” 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  tone  of  sincere  surprise 
in  those  words. 

“Now  look  you,  Mr.  Willoughby;  do  you  pretend 
that  you  know  nothing  about  the  abduction  at  Maple- 
wood?” 

“I  do.  On  my  word  as  the  gentleman  you  will  find 
me  to  be,  I do.  Who  has  been  abducted?” 

“Before  I answer  you,  there  is  one  question  you  must 
answer  for  me.” 

“Well?” 

“You  spoke  of  a supposed  crime  for  which  you  might 
have  been  suspected.  What  crime  did  you  mean?” 
Willoughby  hesitated  a moment  before  he  answered: 
“It  might  be  classed  as  housebreaking  or  burglary.” 
“Then  you  entered  Maplewood  clandestinely?” 
“Yes.” 

“When?” 

“Night  before  last.” 

“With  what  object  in  view?” 

“Now  Fll  tell  you  after  you  have  answered  my  ques- 
tion about  the  abduction.” 

“Who  was  the  abducted  party?” 


48  Drexel  s Nephew  Declares  Himself. 


“Yes.” 

“Gideon  Drexel’s  daughter.” 

“Great  Heaven! — not  Dolly?” 

Willoughby  started  up  from  his  lounging  position, 
and  there  was  terror  written  on  his  face. 

“No.  Not  Miss  Meredith,  the  stepdaughter,  but  Mr. 
Drexel’s  child,  Dais}7.”  ‘ ^ | | 

A look  of  relief  came  into  his  face;  but  he  replied: 
“No!  no!  Not  that  little  angel.  Who  could  be  so 
cruel  as  to  carry  her  away  from  her  home?” 

“That  is  why  I am  up  here — to  find  out.” 

“Then  let  me  help  you.” 

“You  help  me?  Why,  how?” 

“I  don’t  know.  But  perhaps  I can.  If  I could  h£lp 
restore  his  child,  maybe  Uncle  Gideon  would  look  upon 
me  more  leniently.” 

“Be  careful.  You  are  confessing  a motive.”  ^ 

“A  motive?  Ah,  yes.  What  was  believed  to  be  the 
motive  in  my  supposed  abduction  of  little  Daisy?” 
“Twofold.  Revenge,  and  the  removal  of  the  heir 
who  stands  between  you  and  Gideon  Drexel’s  millions.” 
“Bah!  If  I wanted  revenge  I’d  take  it  in  a manner 
very  different  from  that.  And  what  good  would  even 
Daisy’s  death  do  me  so  long  as  wills  are  recognized  by 
courts?”  . W 

“Perhaps  you  can  suggest  somebody  who  would 
profit  in  some  way  by  the  little  girl’s  abduction?” 

“No.  I cannot.” 

“Well,  to  return  to  your  own  case.  Now  tell  me 
why  you  clandestinely  entered  Maplewood  on  the  night 
of  the  abduction.” 

“I  went  in  response  to  a note.” 

“From  whom?” 

“I  supposed  it  was  from  Miss  Meredith.” 

“What  wasjn  the  note?” 


Drexel’s  Nephew  Declares  Himself.  49 

V4, 

“A  request  for  me  to  come  to  ber  in  her  room  at 
eleven  o’clock  that  night;  that  she  had  something  to 
tell  me  of  great  importance,  and  that  her  stepfather 
must  not  know  we  met.” 

“Was  that  all?” 

“No;  *she  directed  me  to  enter  through  the  nursery  on 
the  second  floor,  in  the  rear,  at  the  window  of  which  I 
w&uld  find  a ladder  placed  there  by  the  gardener  at  her 
request.  She  said  Michael  Dolan  and  his  daughter 
Lizzie  were  her  friends,  and  would  not  betray  me. 
Also,  that  Lizzie  would  see  to  it  that  the  nursery 
would  be  deserted.  Her  room  was  just  across  the  hall 
from  the  nursery.” 

“And  you  went?” 

“Yes.” 

“The  ladder  was  there?” 

“Yes.” 

“The  nursery  was  deserted?” 

“Yes.”  * ‘ 

“You  found  Miss  Meredith ” 

“Asleep  in  her  bed.  I scared  her  nearly  to  death; 
and  then  she  became  so  indignant  that  I had  to  flee 
for  fear  she  would  arouse  the  household.” 

“A  case  where  discretion  was  the  better  part  of 
valor?”  smiled  Nick. 

“Surely  it  was.” 

“You  had  been  trapped.” 

“It  looks  like  it.  Yet  I would  have  sworn  the  note 
was  written  by  Miss  Meredith.” 

“Where  is  that  note?” 

“In  my  valise.” 

“Good ! We’ll  have  a chance  to  examine  it.’* 

“I  fear  not.  It  is  on  the  steamer  Albany.” 

“There  you  are  mistaken.  It  is  in  my  house  at  New 
York.  I’ll  send  for  it.” 


50  Drexel’s  Nephew  Decfares  Himself* 

* ‘Oh!  Confiscated,  was  it?” 

“Temporarily,  yes,  I think  I will  return  it,  how- 
ever. ” 

“Then  you  believe  what  I have  told  you?” 

“How  can  I help  it?” 

“You  are  a guest  at  Maplewood.  You  can  help  me, 
and  maybe  I can  aid  you.  ” 

“Help  you,  Mr.  Willoughby?  In  what?” 

“In  making  my — my  peace  with  Miss  Meredith.” 
“So!  And  what  is  Miss  Meredith  to  you?” 

“She  is  everything  to  me— life,  happiness.” 

“You  love  her?” 

“Yes;  with  my  whole  soul.  I would  not  make 
this  confession  did  I not  need  your  help.” 

“But  she  has  another  suitor?” 

“Who?”  There  was  a sudden  glare  in  Willoughby’s 
eyes. 

“A  young  friend  of  Mrs.  Drexel,  from  New  Orleans, 
named  Vale.” 

“Ah!  the  fellow  who  has  been  hanging  around  in 
this  neighborhood  for  two  weeks?” 

“The  same.” 

“But  she  does  not  encourage  him?” 

“On  the  contrary,  she  does;  and  they  are  very  often 
alone  together.” 

“That  explains  her  apparent  coolness  toward  me, for 
the  last  fortnight  every  time  we  met.  She  has  not 
seemed  herself  in  all  that -time.” 

“You  must  force  her  to  an  explanation.” 

“I  would  like  to;  but  how  can  I meet  her  for  such  a 
purpose?” 

“Meet  her  this  evening.” 

“Where?” 

“Here.  I’ll  arrange  it.  Have  you  paper  and 
pencil?” 


Drexel’s  Nephew  Declares  Himself.  51 
“Yes." 

* ‘ Then  write  her  a note  to  meet  you  here  at  eight 
o’clock  this  evening,  and  say  that  she  must  not  fail,  as 
it  may  concern  one  in  whom  she  is  just  now  greatly 
interested.” 

“Who,  Vale?” 

“Never  mind  who — just  write  the  note.” 

“She  may  not  come.” 

“I  think  she  will.” 

“You  will  not  deliver  the  note  yourself?” 

“No;  but  it  will  reach  her,  never  fear.” 

The  note  was  written  and  placed  in  Nick’s  possession. 
He  then  arose,  and,  offering  Willoughby  his  hand,  he 
said: 

“I  will  meet  you  here  at  five  o’clock  to-morrow 
morning,  Mr.  Willoughby;  and  then  we  can  talk  more 
definitely  of  our  future  relationship.  Is  it  a bargain?” 
“Yes.  If  I can  be  of  help  to  you.  command  me.” 

“I  will;  for  I think  you  can  aid  me  materially.  Till 
to-morrow  morning,  adieu.” 

As  the  detective  strode  away  he  muttered : ~~ 

“There  is  more  mystery  to  clear  up  at  Maplewood 
than  I suspected.  Well,  when  Willoughby  and  Miss 
Meredith  meet  at  the  cascade  this  evening,  I’ll  be  lying 
flat  behind  that  big  rock,  and  perhaps  I’ll  be  able  to 
piok  up  a few  points.” 


;T 


' r"  9 


1 


< 


• Nick  Carter’s  Rabbit  Hunt 


CHAPTER  YIII. 

9 

NICK  CARTER’S  MEMORABLE  RABBIT  HUNT. 

Nick  Carter, -in  returning  to  Maplewood,  after 
leaving  Frank  Willoughby  at  the  woodland  cataract, 
took  a roundabout  course  which  would  bring  him  to  the 
house  from  the  rear.  The  tract  of  woods  extended  in 
an  unbroken  stretch  until  it  passed  beyond  the  confines 
of  Mr.  DrexeFs  estate.  About  a quarter  of  a mile  from 
the  house  there  was  an  unusually  thick  collection  of 
underbrush,  so  densely  interwoven  with  vines  of  some 
wild  variety  that  it  seemed  impossible  for  any  person 
to  penetrate  them. 

Right  on  the  edge  of  this  miniature  jungle,  and  on 
the  margin  of  the  wood,  was  a rustic  arbor  fitted  up 
with  easy  seats,  and  a lounge  woven  from  the  roots  of 
trees  and  dead  vines.  A coarse  blanket  was  spread 
upon  the  lounge,  improvising  therefrom  a rough  couch, 
and  testifying  to  the  fact  that  the  place  was  frequented 
by  some  person  or  persons. 

Nick  stopped,  and,  feeling  somewhat  tired,  stretched 
himself  at  full  length  upon  the  rustic  couch. 

“X  wonder  whether  this  has  not  been  a trysting  place 
for  some  of  the  conspirators  who  live  over  yonder  in  that 
rich  man’s  house,3’  ho  soliloquized.  “The  arbor  is  ad- 
mirably fitted  for  such  a purpose.  One  can  sit  here  and 
see  the  approach  of  any  one  els©  from  a distance  in  all 
direptions  far  beyond  the  ordinary  sound  of  a human 
voice — in  all  Erections  but  one.  That  copse,  however. 


Nick  Carter’s  Rabbit  Hunt. 


53 


extends  back  far  enough  to  keep  eavesdroppers  at  a safe 
distance,  unless  they  could  find  concealment  in  its  dense 
body.  And  I imagine  it  would  be  rather  a difficult 
task  to  work  oneself  into  the  thing.” 

He  turned  upon  his  left  side  so  as  to  take  a good  look 
at  the  underbrush. 

“Hello!  There’s  a hole  among  the  vines  close  down 
on  the  ground  which  looks  as  if  a dog  had  worked  his 
way  in  after  a rabbit  or  some  species  of  game.  I won- 
der if  a man  could  squeeze  in,  too,  in  case  of  necessity.” 

After  musing  over  the  situation  for  a minute  or  two, 
Nick  lazily  rolled  over  upon  his  right  side  which 
brought  into  his  line  of  vision  the  entire  vista  between 
the  arbor  and  the  mansion  of  Maplewood. 

What  he  saw  caused  him  to  utter  an  exclamation  of 
surprise. 

“By  all  that’s  mysterious,  if  there  isn’t  Mrs.  Drexel 
in  the  company  of  Mr.  Yale,  of  New  Orleans!  They 
are  coming  this  way.  I have  not  yet  been  discovered.— 
If  I could  conceal  myself  within  earshot,  who  knows 
what — ■ By  the  holy. ground  hog! — the  hole  in  the 
underbrush!  I’ll  get  in  there  or  tear  every  stitch  of 
clothing  from  my  body.” 

Without  rising,  and  without  losing  a moment  in 
further  observation,  the  detective  dropped  off  the  couch 
and  crawled  flat  upon  his  stomach  to  the  hole  in  the 
copse.  To  his  great  satisfaction  the  entrance  was  less  - 
difficult  than  it  looked.  He  therefore  entered  back- 
ward instead  of  head-first,  as  was  his  first  intention. 

Once  safely  under  cover,  Nick  carefully  arranged  the 
vines  about  the  entrance  to  his  retreat  until  he  could 
barely  see  the  interior  of  the  arbor,  and  yet  was  himself 
securely  hidden  from  even  the  most  pentrating  eye. 

Then  he  waited  for  the  arrival  of  the  approaching 
couple.  Not  a word  passed  between  them  until  they 


54 


Nick  Carter's  Rabbit  Hunt. 


were  both  seated.  Vale  was  smoking  a cigar  with  a 
nonchalance  that  seemed  audacious,  and  Mrs.  DrexePs 
face  plainly  bore  the  signs  of  annoyance.  She  was  the 
first  to  speak  1 

4 4 What  do  you  propose  to  do  now?'’ 

“I  propose,  in  the  first  place,  to  get  possession  of 
that  will.”  * , ^ 

“What  good  would  that  do?  This  man  Vernon 
would  miss  it,  and  another  would  be  drawn  up  and  exe- 
cuted in  its  place,7’ 

“Probably:  if  there  was  anybody  to  execute  another 
when  the  present  will  is  missed.” 

“What  do  you  mean?  Your  idea  that  the  abduction 
of  Daisy  would  bring  on  DrexePs  heart  trouble,  and 
probably  kill  him,  has  not  been  verified  by  the  facts. 
Neither  has  your  scheme  succeeded  to  get  him  to 
make  a will  in  my  favor,  provided  the  child  should 
never  be  found.”  ; 

“There  is  no  accounting  for  the  perversity  of  these 
rich  old  men.  But  I’ll  get  the  better  of  him.  You 
and  I will  enjoy  his  millions  yet.” 

“Suppose  we  fail,  and  he- succeeds  in  disposing  of 
his  wealth  otherwise.  You  certainlv  would  not  ask  me 
to  become  your  penniless  wife?” 

“I  certainly  should.  My  love  is  not  a sordid  one; 
although  love  in  a cottage,  I know,  is  far  less  blissful 
than  love  in  a castle.” 

“Bah!  Why  talk  about  love?  You  know  I never 
cared  a picayune  for  yon,  and  never  will.” 

“That  remains  to  be  seen.  You  would  bury  no  love 
in  old  Drexel’s  grave,  and  I presume  no  other  man  pos- 
sesses what  I covet.” 

A slight  flush  suffused  her  cheeks  at  these  words. 
She  raised  her  fan  quickly  as  if  to  hide  it,  and  if  be 
saw  her  perturbation  he  affected  not  to  notice  it. 


55 


Carter 


> 

s 


Rabbit 


Hunt. 


“What  do  you  propose  to  do  next?”  she  exclaimed. 

“Leave  that  to  me.  I can  now  work  alone  with  best 
effect.” 

“Then  let  us  return  to  the  house.  We  must  not  be 
seen  too  much  together.  My  husband  might  become 
suspicious.” 

“Not  likely.  He  is  too  well  satisfied  that  I am  dead 
in  love  with  his  stepdaughter.” 

“What  is  her  secret  by  which  you  hold  her  under 

your  thumb?” 

“It  would  be  no  secret  if  more  than  she  and  I knew 
it,”  he  smiled. 

“It  seems  to  me  you  deal  in  women’s  secrets,”  testily 

t 

replied  Mrs.  Drexel. 

Yale  laughed  sardonically.  Then  he  drawled  : 

“Well,  it  was  lucky  that  I discovered  your  secret, 
else  I believe  I wouldn’t  have  been  able  to  have  got 
within  speaking  distance  of  your  ladyship.  And  it  was 
equally  lucky  that  I fell  into  possession  of  Miss  Mere- 
dith’s secret,  else  I should  not  have  had  such  splendid 
opportunities  to  meet  you,  and  lay  out  plots  right  under 
old  Drexel’s  nose,  while  pretending  to  be  dead  in  love 
with  his  stepdaughter  and  paying  her  desperate  atten- 
tion.” 

“There  is  one  thing  about  your  relationship  with 
Miss  Meredith  which  I can’t  understand.” 

“Indeed?” 

“Why  does  she  tolerate  you,  become  a party  to  the 
deception,  and  even  show  an  interest  in  your  welfare, 
when  I know  she  has  no  such  love  for  you  as  a girl 
gives  to  the  man  she  hopes  to  marry?” 

“How  do  you  know  she  does  not?” 

“That  is  my  secret,”  laughed  Mrs.  Drexel. 

“Very  well.  It  is  only  fair  you  should  have  some- 
thing to  oftcet-  that  which  holds  you  in  my  power.” 


56 


Nick  Carter’s  Rabbit  Hunt. 


U 


Mr.  Vale,  I would  give  much  to  know  how  you 
discovered  my  secret.5’ 

“No  doubt.” 

“There  is  only  on©  living  person  who  shared  it  with 
me  before  you  came,  and  that  one  I am  convinced  is 
true  tome.” 

His  only  answer  was  a hard,  metallic  laugh.  Then 
he  turned  to  scratch  a match  against  the  lattice.  As 
t oon  as  his  countenance  was  averted  Nick  saw  a*lookof 
deadly  hate  distort  the  face  of  Mrs.  Drexel.  Her  lips 
^parted,  showing  her  white  teeth  clinched  under  somA 
hidden  fury,  and  her  eyes  flashed  with  the  fires  of  the 
volcano  which  smoldered  in  her  heart. 

“We  will  go  back  now,”  he  said,  ash©  finished  light- 
ing  his  cigar. 


She  arose  to  go;  but  her  attention,  as  well  as  that  of 


Vale’s,  -was  diverted  by  the  baying  of  a hound  which 
was  approaching  from  the  direction  of  the  house.  A 
flying  rabbit  a few  rods  in  front  of  the  dog  explained 
the  situation.  The  plotting  couple  for  a moment,  as 
they  stood  watching  the  chase,  forgot  their  conspiracy. 

Nick  heard  the  baying  of  the  bound,  and  he  also  heard 
Vale  exclaim:  “There’s  sport  for  you,  Helen.  Two  to 
one  the  rabbit  beats  the  dog  to  the  copse.” 

The  detective  understood  the  situation,  and  knew  that 
his  hiding-place  was  in  imminent  danger  of  discovery. 

Before  he  could  safely  collect  his  thoughts  there  was 
a rustle  at  the  edge  of  the  copse,  the  frightened  rabbit 
broke  through  the  vines  and  halted  within  reach  of  his 
right  hand. 

It  seemed  perfectly  indifferent  to  his  presence,  but 
turned  with  extended  ears  to  listen  for  the  approach  of 
its  deadly  four-legged  foe. 

The  hound  dashed  up  to  the  copse  as  if  it  intended  to 
break  through  in  pursuit  of  its  game,  el ust  as  it  reached 


57 


Nick  Carter’s  Rabbit  Hunt. 

the  place  where  Nick  had  crawled  into  hiding,  it  re-  % 
coiled  and  uttered  a growl  of  terror,  while  the  bristles 
on  its  neck  stood  upright,  indicative  of  some  unusual 

and  unexpected  canine  discovery. 

“Hello!”  exclaimed  Yale,  approaching  .the  dog. 
“What  does  that  mean?  There  is  something  in  there 

besides  that  rabbit.”  # 

Nick  saw  him  reach  back  to  his  hip  pocket,  draw  out 
a silver-mounted  revolver,  and  stoop  down  to  a level 
with  his  hiding-place,  as  he  exclaimed  : 

“I’ll  just  help  the  dbg  out  by  scattering  a few  bullets 
around  in  there  in  search  of  whatever  there  may  be 
bidden  by  these  vines  and  the  underbrush.” 


58 


What  Nick  Saw  and  Heard, 


CHAPTER  IX. 

WHAT  NICK  SAW  AND  HEARD  AT  THE  CASCADE. 

The  situation  was  extremely  critical. 

Nick  realized  it,  and  decided  that  be  must  hit  upon 
some  plan  to  divert  Vale’s  mischievous  intentions. 
The  rabbit  sat  erect  on  its  hind  legs  within  easy  reach, 
totally  oblivious  to  a human  presence,  but  facing  its 
canine  pursuer,  and  wholly  intent  upon  listening  for 
sounds  from  the  outside. 

Like  a flash  Nick  decided  upon  a chance  to  avert  his 
danger.  Raising  his  right  hand  he  gently  cuffed  the 
frightened  rabbit  upon  the  side  of  the  head— not  hard 
enough,  however,  to  stun  the  creature. 

The  effect  was  exactly  as  h©  hoped  it  would  be. 
Forgetting  the  danger  from  without  in  its  new  terror, 
the  rabbit  made  a dash  forward  just  as  it  faced,  and 
in  a moment  yvas  once  more  in  open  space,  bounding 
away  from  the  copse.  The  appearance  of  the  rabbit 
caused  the  hound  to  forget  the  object  in  the  underbrush, 
the  secret  of  which  had  caused  him  to  halt  on  the  out- 
skirts; and  he  set  off  after  his  victim  with  renewed 
vigor. 

Nick’s  flesh  gave  a few  creeping  shivers  as  he  heard 
the  near  discharge  of  the  chambers  from  Vale’s  pistol. 
But  the  latter’s  words,  immediately  following  the  re- 
ports, served  to  quiet  the  detective’s  nerves. 

u By  Jove,  I missed  him ! Luckily,  I also  missed  the 


What  Nick  Saw  and  Heard.  59 

“Let  us  return  to  the  house.  I fear  the  sound  of  your 
pistol  shots  will  attract  undue  attention.  ” 

“What  of  it?  There  is  no  harm  in  shooting  at  a rab- 
bit, I guess.  If  I never  aim  at  larger  game  some  people 
will  be  exceedingly  lucky.” 

They  were  moving  away  while  this  conversation  oc- 
curred, and  presently  Nick  lost  the  sound  of  their  voices 
entirely.  Still  he  exercised  much  caution.  Slowly 
moving  on  his  stomach  toward  the  edge  cf  the  under- 
brush, he  carefully  parted  the  leaves  so  that  he  could 
see  beyond  the  rustic  arbor.  His  deliverance  was  not 
in  question.  Vale  and  Mrs.  Drexel  were  slowly  saun- 
tering away  in  the  direction  of  the  house. 

He  wratched  them  till  they  disappeared.  Then  he 
cautiously  emerged  from  his  hiding  and,  without  rising 
erect,  began  to  crawl  around  the  copse  until  part  of  it 
was  between  him  and  the  residence  at  Maplewood. 

Not  till  then  did  he  rise  to  his  feet.  He  shook  him- 
self rquch  like  a dog  just  coming  from  the  water. 

“Well,  I don’t  mind  it  so  much  when  a man  points  a 
pistol  at  me,  and  I have  an  equal  chance  by  facing 
him,”  muttered  Nick;  “but  this  thing  of  being  hedged 
in  by  bramble  bushes  and  seeing  a man  with  a pistol 
getting  ready  to  fire  promiscuously  in  the  wrong  direc- 
tion, i3  not  exactly  a nerve  tonic.  Ugh !” 

Having  carefully  brushed  himself  off,  he  made  a de- 
tour through  the  woods  and  came  out  a quarter  of  a 
mile  below  the  arbor.  He  proceeded  immediately  to 
the  house.  In  the  front  yard  he  found  Chick,  in  the 
guise  of  a German  gar  dener,  busily  trimming  up 
some  flower  beds.  Nick  pretended  an  interest  in  the 
work  and  stopped  as  if  to  watch  the  young  German. 

Presently  he  stooped  over  a cluster  of  verbenas,  and 
while  plucking  a flower  concealed  Willoughby’s  note 
among  the  leaves. 


6o  What  Nick  Saw  and  Heard. 

c 4 Take  that  to  Ida,  and  have  her  leave  it  where  Miss 
Meredith  and  no  one  else  will  be  sure  to  find  it,”  whis- 
pered Nick. 

44 All  right,”  was  the  low- toned  reply.  “X  must  see 
you  to-night,  Nick.  I have  news.” 

“Fll  lower  a rope  ladder  from  my  window  at  one 
o’clock.  Come  to  my  room.” 

44  Which  is  your  room?” 

44 On  the  west  side,  second  floor,  directly  over  the 
office.” 

44A11  right.  I’ll  be  there. ” 

4 4 Better  see  Ida  before  vou  come,  and  find  out  what 
she  has  to  say.  She  may  have  gathered  some  informa- 
tion, too.  Look  out!  There  comes  the  coachman.” 

Half  an  hour  before  the  time  set  by  the  note  for  the 
meeting  of  Willoughby  and  Dolly  Meredith,  Nick 
crept  up  through  the  deep  shadows  of  the  wood  in  the 
rear  of  the  cataract,  and  concealed  himself  behind  a half- 
detached  rock  whence  he  could  see  the  plateau  in  front 
of  the  basin,  and  near  enough  to  hear  anything  that 
might  be  said  unless  it  was  spoken  in  a whisper. 

A few  minutes  before  eight  o’clock  Frank  Wil- 
loughby arrived  and  began  to  pace  up  and  down  the 
broad  stone  platform,  while  his  eyes  roamed  around 
throughHhe  ghastly  vistas  among  the  trees,  anxiously 
alaticipating  his  sweetheart’s  arrival. 

Eight  o’clock  arrived  and  passed.  Ten  minutes  went 
by,  and  Willoughby’s  impatience  broke  forth  in  words. 

4<I  might  have  known  it,”  he  mumbled.  4 4 She  will 
not  come.  Does  she  then,  after  all,  turn  from  me  to 
that  puppy  Vale?  Oh,  I can  hardly  believe  it,  vet — • 
Sh!”  " 

There  was  a rustling  at*his  back,  and  almost  before 
he  could  turn,  a woman  was  in  his  presence. 

4 4 Dolly !” 


* 


What  Nick  Saw  and  Heard. 


6 1 


“Frank!” 

“I  am  so  glad  you  came.  Now  I can  explain  my 

intrusion  of  the  other  night. 

“You  certainly  owe  an  explanation.  Oh,  r ran  , 

how  could  you  be  so  rude?” 

“Dolly,  I. was  deceived.  I believed  I was  coming  to 

you  by  your  own  appointment.” 

“How  could  you  think  that?” 

“Because  I received  a note  which  I would  have  sworn 
was  in  your  hand,  asking  me  to  come  to  your  room  that 
night;  telling  mo  you  were  in  trouble,  and  must  see 
me.  It  even  pointed  out  my  way  by  the  aid  of  a ladder 
placed- at  the  nursery  window  by  Dolan  the  gardener.^ 
“Dolan  the  gardener?  He  had  been  gone  two  days. 

“I  didn’t  know  it.” 

“And  you  came  in  through  the  nursery?'’ 

“Yes.” 

“And  went  out  the  same  way? 

“I  did.” 

“Then  that  explains  it- all.” 

“What?” 

“They  believS  you  carried  away  Daisy.” 

‘ ‘ It  was  a trap.  ’ ’ 

“But  who  could  forge  a -note  purporting  to  come 
from  me?’ 

“I  can  think  of  but  one  person.” 

“Who?” 

“That  man  Yale.”  ' 

“Ho!  no!  He  did  not  do  it.” 

The  words  were  spoken  impulsively,  hurriedly. 
“Dolly,”  cried  Willoughby,  seizing  both  her  hands. 

“What  is  this  man  Yale  to  you?” 

“What  do  you  mean?” 

He  could  not  see  her  face  very  plainly ; but . he  felt 
her  hands  twitch,  and  heard  the  tremble  in  her  voice. 


62 


What  Nick  Saw  and  Heard. 


“I  mean,  why  are  you  two  so  much  together?  Why 
do  you  show  such  an  undue  interest  in  him?’’ 

“ I deny  that  I show  an  undue  interest  in  him/* 

“But  you  meet  him  alone  frequently. 5 ’ 

She  remained  silent. 

“Speak!  Tell  me  what  it  means.  The  man  is  a 
villain.  ” ' i' 

“You  do  not  know.  You  shall  not  talk  so  about 
him.” 

“What!  You  defend  him,  Miss  Meredith?  You 
must  tell  me  why  you  are  so  much  interested  in  that 
fellow  Yale.” 

“What  if  I refuse?” 

“You  will  not.” 

“But  I do.” 

There  was  defiance  in  her  tone,  and  she  took  several 
steps  backward. 

“By  Heaven,  Dolly,  this  has  gone  far  enough!  You 
must  choose  between  us.  Will  you  marry  me  to- 
morrow?” 

“No.” 

“Then,  when  will  you  place  yourself  in  my  keeping 
for  all  time?”  * 

“I  cannot  tell.  Maybe  never.” 

“This  man  Vale  is  standing  in  my  way,”  he  hissed. 
“You  promised  me,  before  he  came,  that  you  would  go 
with  me  when  I was  ready  to  take  you*.” 

“Bat  you  were  not  ready.” 

“You  know  why.  I had  no  such  home  to  take  you 
to  as  that  which  you  would  have  had  to  leave.  I hesi- 
tated to  ask  tho  sacrifice  of  you.” 

“And  you  are  richer  now  than  then?” 

“No.  But  you  have  met  one  who  can  probably  give 
you  a more  luxurious  home  than  I.  If  you  love  his 
money  more  than  you  love  me,  go  to  him.” 


What  Nick  Saw  ana  Heard.  63 

“I  will  not  stay  to  be  insulted.  You  will  some  day 
come  to  me  and  ask  my  pardon;  until  then  I leave  you 
to  your  own  sense  of  what  is  due  the  woman  you  profess 
to  love.” 

Without  another  word  she  turned,  and  in  a moment 
was  lost  in  the  blackness  of  the  woods. 

For  a moment  Willoughby  stood  as  if  dazed.  Then 
he  held  out  his  hands  and  cried : 

“Dolly,  come  back!  I ” 

But  not  even  the  sound  of  her  footsteps  answered  him. 

“Fool  that  I am  to  drive  her  away  in  that  manner, ’Y 
he  muttered,  as  he  turned  to  leave  the  trysting  spot. 

His  surprise  was  none  greater  than  Nick’s  to  see 

another  form — the  figure  of  a taller  woman  than  Miss 

Meredith — step  from  behind  the  huge  tiunk  of  a tree 

and  confront  him  before  he  had  time  to  take  half  a 

* ' 

dozen  steps. 

“You  here,  Mrs.  Drexel!”  exclaimed  he,  starting 
back. 

“Yes,  Mr.  Willoughby,  lam  here;  and  lam  going 
to  have  a perfect  understanding  with  you  before  we 
part.” 

Willoughby  stood  perfectly  still  for  ten  seconds  with- 
out making  an  answer.  Then  be  spoke  slowly,  as  if 
studying  his  words: 

“A  perfect  understanding  with  me?  About  what?” 

“Several  things,”  was  Mrs.  Drexel’s  reply. 

“In  the  first  place,  I want  to  know  what  you  have 
done  with  my  child?” 

“You  think  I abducted  your  little  girl?” 

“Who  else  would  have  had  any  interest  in  such  a 
deed?  Y"ou  entered  Maplewood  surreptitiously  that 
night.  Proofs  of  your  presence  in  the  nursery  are 
plentiful.  Besides,  you,  above  all  living  persons,  as 
the  next  of  kin  to  my  husband, -have  an  interest  in  the 


64  What  Nick  Saw  and  Heard. 

life  of  iny  child  and  his  heiress.  What  have  you  done 
with  her?55 

44  Mrs.  Drexel,  you  cannot  believe  me  capable  of  such 
a deed.”  r ' 

“I  can  believe  anything  of  anybody.  My  experience 
with  the  world  has  not  been  such  as  to  convince  me 
that  the  majority  of  people  are  saints.  Men  and 
women  are  all  alike.  They  will  all  stoop  to  desperate 
means  to  attain  the  desires  of  their  hearts.” 

“And  would  you?” 

44  Why  not?  You  know  I have  done  it.  I put  aside 
my  love  for  you  to  marry  Drexel  and  obtain  the  wealth 
you  had  not,” 

“Bah!  Do  not  speak  of  that  foolish  infatuation.” 
“Foolish  infatuation,  do  you  say?  It  was  no  foolish 
infatuation  on  my  part,  Frank  Willoughby.  I loved 
you  then  and  I love  you  now.” 

“Mrs.  Drexel,  you  are  mad!55 

4 4 Perhaps  1 am.  But  there  may  oe  method  in  my 
madness.  I refused  to  marry  you  once,  and  you  found 
consolation  by  wedding  a song  and'dance  girl — — ” 

“I  forbid  you  to  speak  of  her.  She  is  dead  and 

44  And  you  are  glad  of  it.  You  never  loved  her.  It 
was  only  an  infatuation  which  ended  before  she  died. 5 y 

44  You  have  no  right  to  say  so.  If  it  were  true,  it  was 
not  the  only  foolish  infatuation  of  my  early  life.” 

“What  do  you  mean?” 

44 1 mean  tbat  I loved  her  better  than  I ever  loved 
you.” 

“That  is  not  true,  Frank  Willoughby.”  came  the 
angry  retort. 

4 4 It  is  true,  Mrs.  Drexel.  I have  never  known  what  • 
true  love  was  until ” 

He  hesitated,  and  did  not  finish  the  sentence.  Mrs. 
Drexel  finished  it  for  him: 


What  Nick  Saw  and  Heard.  ..  65 

“Until  you  met  Dolly  Meredith?” 

There  was  a sneer  in  her  voice.  Willoughby  made 
no  reply,  and  she  went  on  : 

“That  girl  is  playing  you  for  a fool.” 

“These  are  strange  words,  Mrs.  Drexel.  ” 

“They  are  not  so  strange  as  they  are  truthful.  Has 
she  not  convinced  you  of  the  fact  herself?” 

“When?” 

“Just  now.  Right  here  on  this  spot.” 

“Ah!  you  were  eavesdropping?” 

“Not  eavesdropping — spying,  maybe.  I was  not 
near  enough  to  hear  what  passed  between  you.” 

“That  is  a lie,  my  good  woman,”  was  Nick’s  remark 
to  himself. 

“But  I saw  your  parting,”  she  added;  “and  I could 
see  that  it  was  not  one  of  trust  or  full  of  loving  con- 
fidence.” - V. 


66 


Mrs.  Drexel’s  Bold  Play 


CHAPTER  X 


MRS.  DREXEL’S  BOLD  PLAY. 


Willoughby  bit  his  lip  and  remained  silent  Mrs. 
Drexel  saw  her  advantage,  and  made  the  most  of  it 

“She  refused  to  marry  you,  as  I refused  eight  years 

ago.”  * 

“You  guess  that.” 

“X  know  it.  She  refuses  for  the  same  reason  X did.  ” 

“Indeed!” 

Willoughby  tried  to  sneer  her  words  into  insignifi- 
cance; but  his  voice,  instead  of  indicating  carelessness, 
trembled  with  some  half-suppressed  emotion. 

“You  are  no  richer  now  than  you  were  then.  A 
girl’s  love  is  apt  to  go  up  in  the  balance  when  gold  is 
weighed  against  it.” 

“Madam,  vour  inferences  against  Miss  Meredith  are 
infamous !” 

“You  know  they  are  true*  If  they  be  infamous,  she 
is  responsible.” 

“You  cannot  make  me  believe  that  I am  not  beloved 
by  Miss  Meredith.” 

“X  do  not  wish  to  make  you  believe  any  such  thing. 
I don’t  care  whether  she  loves  you  or  not,  so  long  as  I 
know  she  will  never  marry  you  while  you  are  a money- 
less man,  and  while  she  has  the  opportunity  to  marry  a 
man  equally  as  handsome,  and  at  the  same  time  inde- 
pendently wealthy.” 

“You  mean  that  fellow  Vale?”  He  hissed  the  words 
between  his  etched  teeth. 


67 


Mrs. 

“I  do.” 

“He  is  rich?” 

“Immensely  rich.” 

“There  you  put  another  lie  to  your  credit,”  muttered 
Nick  under  his  breath. 

“She  doesn’t  love  him.”  - 

“I  don’t  know,  and  I don’t  care.  I only  know  that 
she  is  no  fool,  and  has  promised  to  marry  him.” 

“You  know  it?  How?” 

“He  has  confided  the  secret  to  me.” 

“Curse  him!” 

“He  has  as  good  a right  to  woo  her  as  you — ay,  better ; 
for  he  can  give  her  what  every  woman  has  a right  to 
expect  from  the  man  she  marries — a home  and  the  lux- 
uries cf  life.” 

“Fool!  fool!  fool!”  muttered  the  enraged  man. 
“Those  words  I presume  are  self  applied,”  quietly 
remarked  the  siren.  “I’m  glad  that  you  realize  your 
condition.  But  don’t  you  think  it  is  time  to  look  after 
your  share  of  the  wealth  of  this  world  and  quit  chasing 
the  thistledown  of  love’s  blossom?” 

“I  hardly  follow  your  meaning,  madam.” 

“Then  let  me  make  myself  plain.  You  once  loved 
me.” 

“I  once  thought  I loved  you;  but ” 

“Never  mind  the  ‘but.’  I loved  you  at  that  time,  and 
never  ceased  to  love  you.  Ah ! I see  you  sneer.  You 
consider  these  words  unwomanly.” 

“I  consider  them  both  unwomanly  and  wicked.  You 
are  a married  woman.” 

“True.  But  I am  likely  to  be  a widow  any  day.’* 
“You  mean ” 

“I  mean  that  Drexel  is  a victim  of  heart  disease. 
Since  Daisy  disappeared,  he  has  shown  alarming  symp- 
toms, which  are  growing  more  serious  every  hour.” 


Drexel’s  Bold  Play 


68 


Mrs.  Drexel’s  Bold  Play. 

“His  death  would  not  grieve  you  much,  I presume.” 
“Frankly,  it  would  not.  Why  should  I speak 
falsely?  His  death  would  make  me  a rich  woman.” 
“Indeed?  How?”  * 

“He  has  made  his  will,  and  left  me  his  sole  heiress 
in  the  event  of  proofs  of  the  death  of  his  child,  Daisy.” 
“A  rather  uncertain  contingency. ” 

“Not  at  all.  You  know  that  there  is  no  such  uncer- 
tainty about  it.” 

“Madam !” 

“Oh!  that  will  do.  Reserve  your  heroics  for  a more 
suitable  occasion  and  auditors.  If  you  are  not  what 
you  called  yourself,  a while  ago — a fool — you  will  meet 
me  halfway  in  what  I propose.” 

“What  do  you  propose?” 

“Promise  to  marry  me  the  day  after  Gideon  Drexel’s 
funeral,  and  I’ll  promise  to  give  you  outright  half  of  the 
estate  I come  into  possession  of  through  his  will.” 
“Madam,  is  this  a joke?”  * 

“Ry  no  means.” 

“I  refuse  to  listen  to  your  raving.”  - 
He  started  to  move  away;  but  she  laid  a hand  on  his 
arm  and  said,  while  her  voice  trembled: 

“Stop!  I have  not  played  my  last  card.  The  day 
you  marry  Gideon  Drexel’s  widow  you  will  get  more 
than  wealth.” 

“Oh,  yes;  a wife.” 

“More  yet;  a daughter.” 

“What’s  this?  Another  riddle?” 

“No,  sir;  nor  yet  an  untruth.” 

“You  are  mad — I know  it  now.” 

“I  know  my  words  sound  like  the  ravings  of  a mad- 
woman. But  I will  soon  convince  you  they  are  full' of 
meaning.  Your  wife  died  in  childbirth.  ” 

“Well.” 


69 


Mrs.  Drexel’s  Bbld  Play. 

*‘It  was  reported  to  yon  that  the  child  also  died.” 

He  took  a step  nearer  to  her. 

“Ah!  you  are  interested,  I see.” 

“Go  on. ” 

•“The  child  did  not  die.  It  is  alive  to-day!” 

“Mrs.  Drexel,  do  not  play  with  , me  thus.  I beg  of 
you.  It  would  be  dangerous.” 

“I  am  not  in  a playful  mood.  I tell  you  your  daugh- 
ter lives.  The  nurse  who  was  with  your  wife  when  she 
died  is  living.  At  the  request  of  your  dying  wife,  she 
concealed  your  offspring  and  palmed  off  the  body  of  a 
little  foundling  upon  the  public,  which  was  buried  with 
the  corpse  of  your  dancing  bride.” 

“Is  this  the  tru^h?” 

“I  do  not  ask  you  to  accept  your  proof  from  my  lips. 
Promise  to  marry  me  the  day  after  Gideon  DrexePs 
funeral,  provided  I furnish  previous  evidence  of  entire 
satisfaction  to  you  that  your  child  is  living,  and  can  be 
restored  to  you,  and  you  shall  have  such  proofs  as  will 
be  indisputable.” 

He  hesitated  some  seconds  before  he  made  a reply  : 

“I  will  agree  to  your  proposition,  on  one  additional 
condition.” 

“Name  it!” 

“That  you  prove  to  me,  to  my  satisfaction,  that  Miss 
Meredith  is  playing  me  false.” 

“I  will.  That  condition  is  easy.” 

“When  will  you  give  me  the  proof?” 

“Of  what?” 

“Of  her  perfidy. ” 

“When  I proveto  you  the  existence  of  your  little 
daughter— to-morrow  night.” 

“Well!” 

“Meet  me  in  the  library  at  Maplewood  to-morrow 
night  at  eleven  o’clock.  The  window  on  the  veranda 


70 


Mrs.  Drexel’s  Bold  Play. 

will  be  open.  If  I am  not  there,  enter  and  wait  for  m& 
I will  produce  tangible  evidence  of  your  child’s  exist- 
ence and  of  Miss  Meredith’s  falsity.”  - 
“I  will  be  there.” 

“Till  then  I will  say  good-night.” 

Before  he  realized  the  act,  she  threw  her  arms  around 
his  neck,  kissed  him  passionately,  and  then  fled  into 
the  darkness  of  the  woods. 

Willoughby  remained  as  if  rooted  to  the  spot  for 
several  minutes.  Then,  without  a word  or  act  of  dem- 
onstration be  walked  slowly  into  the  shadows  of  the 
trees  and  disappeared. 

Nick  lay  still  for  some  time  after  Willoughby  had 
gone,  turning  over  in  his  mind  all  the  strange  things 
he  bad  seen  and  heard  since  he  concealed  himself  behind 
that  rock.  As  he  was  about  to  slip  away  into  the  dark- 
ness, another  surprise  met  him  in  the  presence  of  a man 
who  seemed  to  drop  from  the  skies  and  suddenly  appear 
upon  that  starlit  plateau. 

“It’s  a regular  procession,”  muttered  Nick. 

The  man  stooped  and  picked  up  something.  It  looked 
like  a folded  handkerchief. 

Whatever  it  was  he  thrust  it  into  his  pocket,  and 
silently  disappeared  into  the  depths  of  the  forest — not, 
however,  until  Nick  had  caught  a glimpse  of  the  man’s 
features. 

“Martin  Maloney,  the  coachman,  by  all  that’s  mys- 
terious!” muttered  Nick.  “He  has  other  business  at 
Maplewood  than  attending  to  Drexel’s  horses.  I won- 
der whether  the  woods  have  anymore  ‘shadows’  to  give 
up?”  - 

He  waited  five  minutes  longer  and  then,  satisfied 
that  he  wa*  entirely  alone,  he,  too,  quit  the  spot. 


Chick  up  a Tree. 


7 1 


CHAPTER  XI. 

\ 

CHICK  UP  A THEE. 

In  approaching  the  house  at  Maplewood,  Nick  made 
a detour  and  came  up  in  the  rear  of  the  stables.  His 
object  was  to  take  a passing  chance  to  study  the  mys- 
terious hostler. 

About  two  hundred  yards  in  the  rear  of  the  building 
Nick  halted  under  a low,  bushy  tree  whose  deep 
shadows  w7ould  conceal  him  from  the  view  of  anybody 
not  in  his  immediate  vicinity.  At  the  same  time  he 
could  see  every  object  plainly  in  the  starlight  for  a dis- 
tance of  many  rods  in  every  direction. 

Throwing  himself  on  the  ground  at  the  foot  of  the 
tree,  Nick  fixed  his  gaze  upon  the  stables,  and  remained 
silent,  staring  at  the  building  for  five  minutes. 

It  was  a habit  the  great  detective  bad  to  talk  to  him- 
self during  periods  of  hie  most  perplexing  work  when- 
ever he  was  perfectly  satisfied  that  no  ears  but  his  own 
were  within  hearing  distance.  Therefore,  as  he  lounged 
in  the  dark  shadows  of  that  tree,  it  was  not  strange  that 
he  fell  into  communing  with  himself. 

44  What  a nest  of  serpents  Gideon  Drexel  has  around 
him,  to  be  sure.  As  soon  as  I recognized  Mr.  Vale, 
I naturally  hit  upon  him  as  the  chief  conspirator.  Now 
I see  I was  mistaken.  Big  a villain  as  he  is,  he  has 
more  than  his  match  in  Mrs.  Drexel. 

4 4 That  woman  is  a monster  of  wickedness.  . Wil- 
loughby must  know  it  as  well  as  I.  Then  how  could 


J.2 


Chick  up  a Tree. 


he  consent  to  marry  her,  at  any  time  or  under  any  con- 
ditions! Have  I been  deceived  by  him,  after  all?  Is 
he  unworthy  of  trust? 

“Does  Miss  Meredith  know  that  he  was  once  the 
lover  of  Mrs.  Drexel?  Does  she  know  that  he  was  for- 
merly married  to  a dancing  girl?  Does  Drexel  know 
of  the  love  affair  between  his  nephew  and  his  wife  years 
ago?  X wish  I knew. 

“Did  Mrs.  Drexel  lie  about  his  child’s  existence,  as 
she  did  about  so  many  other  things  which  she  told  him 
to-night?  Does  she  believe  he  abducted  Daisy  Drexel, 
as  she  pretends?  and  can  it  be  possible,  after  all,  that 
he  was  a party  to  the  crime? 

“What  is  Yale’s  secret  power  over  Mrs..  Drexel  and 
over  Dolly  Meredith?  -Who  is  Martin  Maloney,  and 
what  is  his  game?  1 have  my  theories  in  all  these  puz- 
zles, and  I’ll  prove  or  disprove  them  before  I’m  here 
two  days  more.” 

“Perhaps  I can  help  you.” 


These  words  came  to  the  ears  ot  the  dumfounded 
detective  like  a thunderbolt  from  a clear  sky.  An  or- 
dinary man  under  such  a startling  surprise,  would  have 
sprung  to  his  feet,  or  at  least  glanced  hastily  airound. 
Nick  did  neither.  He  remained  as  if  he  had  heard 
nothing;  but' his  eyes  were  rolling  in  his  head  from  side 
to  side,  and  his  thoughts  were  very  much  alive. 

Where  did  the  words  come  from?  They  were  spoken 
near  to  him,  because  they  were  uttered  in  a subdued 
tone,  and  yet  were  startlingly  distinct. 

It  took  a few  moments  to  convince  him  that  this  un- 
known companion  was  concealed  overhead  in  the  thick 
branches  of  the  tree. 

In  a few  seconds  more  he  had  made  up  his  mind  that 
the  spokesman  was  his  assistant,  Chick,  who,  for  some 
reason,  had  changed  the  natural  tone  of  his  voice,, 


Chick  up  a Tree.  73 

Once  satisfied  on  that  point,  he  said,  in  an  equally 
well-modulated  tone,  and  without  looking  up : 

“Is  that  you,  Chick?” 

“Yes.  I’m  up  a tree.” 

“What  in  the  world  are  you  doing  there?” 

“I’ve  been  eavesdropping.’ 

“On  whom?” 

“Vale  and  Miss  Meredith.  I hadn’t  time  to  get 
down  until  I saw  you  approaching,  so  I lay  low;  and 
it’s  lucky  I did.” 

“Why?” 

“I’ve  got  lots  to  tell,  and  this  is  better  than  climbing 
into  your  room  by  use  of  a rope  ladder  after  midnight.” 
“That’s  so.  But  tell  me  how  you  happnened  to  get 
into  this  tree  to  eavesdrop.” 

“I  noticed  it  was  a favorite  meeting-place  for  Vale 
and  Miss  Meredith,  and  took  the  chances  on  their  com- 
ing here  to-night.” 

“And  the  chances  panned  out?” 

“Yes;  though  she  was  late,  it  seems,  and  he  almost 
failed  to  wait  long  enough.  When  she  did  put  in  an 
appearance  the  interview  didn’t  last  long.” 

“Why?” 

“Well,  it  appears  he  was  thereat  her  request,  and 
he  wras  angry  that  he  had  to  wait.” 

“Well,  what  did:  you  hear?” 

“Enough  to  convince  me  that  Miss  Meredith  is  very 
solicitous  about  Vale’s  safety.” 

* 4 Why?” 

“She  urged  him  to  go  away  at  once,  before  it  became 
too  late;  said  he  was  already  suspected,  and  would 
surely  be  arrested  if  he  stayed  much  longer.” 

“ Whali  reply  did  he  make?5’' 

“Ho  only  I vngked  at  her  fears,  and  said  he  was  able 
to  take  cam  cf  himself.” 


74  Chick  up  a Tree. 

“Is  that  all?” 

“No.  He  finally  agreed  to  go  away  and  not  return, 
if  she  would  get  a thousand  dollars  for  him.” 

“ What  did  she  say?” 

“At  first  she  called  his  request  a mad  one,  and  spoke 
of  the  impossibility  of  complying  with  it.  He  said  it 
meant  that  much  money  or  he  would  dare  everything  to 
the  end.” 

“Well!  Then  what?” 

“After  a good  deal  of  general  talk  she  agreed  to  try, 
within  a day  or  two,  to  get  the  money  for  him.” 

“What  do  you  make  of  this  man,  Chick?” 

“He  is  a relative  who  has  committed  some  crime.” 
“A  pretty  good  guess.” 

“Is  there  such  a person?” 

“Yes;  Miss  Meredith  has  a brother  who  has  been  a 
fugitive  from  justice  since  he  was  a boy.” 

“For  what  cause?” 

“Accused  of  killing  a man  in  a quarrel.” 

“And  this  is  the  brother  here  under  an  assumed 
name?” 

“No.  This  is  some  one  who  is  impersonating  that 
brother  for  a purpose.” 

“ What  purpose?’  ’ 

“I’m  not  quite  ready  to  answer  that  question.” 
“Nick?” 

“Well!” 

“You  know  this  Yale?” 

“Like  my  A B C’s,” 

“Who  is  he?” 

“I’ll  tell  you  when  we  have  more  time.  You  said 
to-day  you  had  news  for  me.  That  was  before  you 
overheard  this  conversation  between  Vale  and  Dolly 
Meredith.” 


75 


Chick  up  a Tree. 

“Well,  what  is  it?”  j 
“The  coachman  is  doing  some  detective  work  on  his 
own  accord. 

“Ah.  Tell  me  about  it.” 

“He  is  shadowing  Mr.  Yale.” 

* • ' v * • ? [• 

“You  are  sure?” 

tr 

“Yes.  And  he’s  in  love  with  Miss  Meredith.” 
“What  makes  you  think  so?” 

“I  saw  him  pick  up  a handkerchief  which  she 
dropped.  When  no  one  was  looking,  as  he  thought,  he 
kissed  it  and  his  eyes  filled  with  tears.  Every  look  he 
gives  her  is  full  of  love.” 

“Martin  Maloney  must  be  making  a collection  of 
handkerchiefs.  I saw  him  gather  up  another  one  to- 
night.” 

“Of  Miss  Meredith’s?” 

“No.  And  he  didn’t  press  his  lips  to  this  one.  If 
his  eyes  filled  with  anything  it  wasn’t  tears.” 

“Then  Ida  sends  you  news.” 

“Ah,  yes!  What  has  Ida  to  report?” 

“Mr  . Drexel  bad  a visitor  this  afternoon.” 

“A  man?” 

, f 

“A  woman.” 

“Well?” 

“An  elderly  woman — one  she  wasn’t  expecting  and 
who  seemed  to  be  a stranger.” 

“Goon.” 

“A  strange  thing  about  this  visitor  was  the  fact  that 
she  was  closely  veiled,  and  no  one  saw  her  face,  unless 
it  was  Mrs.  Drexel  in  her  own  room.” 

“How  did  she  gain  admission  to  madam’s  presence?” 
“By  means  of  a sealed  note  which  she  sent  up  by 
Ida.” 

“Stay  long?” 

“Half  an  hour. ” 


j6  Chick  up  a Tree. 

# 'v*  ^ - 

“What  did  Ida  hear?”  A , 

“Not  a word.  But  she  saw  how  pal©  Mrs.  Drexel ’s 
face  was  after  the  woman  left.  She  also  saw  the  veiled 
woman  whisper  something  into  the  ear  of  Mrs.  Storms 
as  she  passed  her  in  the  hall,  and  saw  Mrs.  Storms 
stare  after  the  departing  visitor.’ ’ 

“Very  mysterious.” 

“Who  do  you  think  she  was?” 

“I  don’t  know.  We  must  find  out.” 

“Have  you  no  theory  about  her?’* 

“Oh,  yes.  She  brought  Mrs.  Drexel  some  valuable 
information.” 

“How  do  you  know?” 

“I  heard  Mrs.  Drexel  repeat  the  information.” 

“To  whom.” 

“To  another  interested  party,” 

“What  was  it?” 

“The  existence  of  a child  which  was  supposed  to  be 
dead.” 

“Not  Daisy  Drexel?” 

“Oh,  no!  That  is,  I don’t  know.” 

“You’re  not  very  definite  in  your  answer.” 

“Well,  I’m  not  quite  sure  of  my  facts  yet.  Keep 
your  eyes  and  ears  open  and  we’ll  get  everything  nicely 
worked  out  in  good  time.  Lie  low  for  a while,  after  I 
shall  have  gone  to  the  house.” 

Before  Nick  went,  however,  he  related  to  Chick  the 
adventure  at  the  copse  in  the  rear  of  the  arbor,  and  ended 
by  saying:  “Now  I want  you  to  keep  a close  watch 
upon  this  man  Vale.  If  we  run  him  down,  we  will 
fulfill  all  our  purpose.”  ^ 


The  Conspirators  at  Work. 


77 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  CONSPIRATORS  AT  WORK  IN  NICK’S  ROOM. 

It  was  ten  o’clock  when  Nick  ascended  the  steps  at 
Maplewood  and  entered  the  house.  There  was  a light 
in  the  lower  hall;  but  he  noticed  that  the  upper  part  of 
the  house  was  dark. 

/While  he  was  placing  his  hat  on  the  hall  rack,  a 
noise  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  attracted  his  attention. 
It  was  the  careful  closing  of  a door,  followed  by  the 
rustle  of  a woman’s  skirts. 

“Somebody  has  just  left  my  room;  and  it  was  a 
woman,  too,”  mentally  observed  the  detective. 

Finding  no  one  on  the  veranda  or  in  the  parlor,  he 
ascended  to  his  room  and  soon  had  a light. 

The  lirst  object  which  claimed  his  attention  was  a 
small  leather  trunk  which  had  arrived  and  been  placed 
at  the  foot  of  the  bed  since  he  left  the  house  after  dinner. 

“Ah!  The  trunk  has  come,”  he  muttered.  “Mrs. 
Carter  lost  no  time  in  answering  my  dispatch.” 

He  stooped,  and  by  the  use  of  a small  magnifying 
glass  examined  the  lock. 

“As  I expected,”  he  chuckled.  “They  have  tried 
to  pick  the  lock.  Well,  that  fellow  is  an  expert  in  the 
business;  but  when  he  succeeds  in  opening  one  of  Nick 
Carter’s  trunks  he  can  take  out  his  diploma.” 

Nick’s  next  move  was  to  close  and  lock  his  door, 
push  a chair  before  the  keyhole,  and  carefully  draw 
the  window  blinds.  Then  he  picked  up  his  green  bag 


78  The  Conspirator^  at  Work. 

from  the  table,  opened  it,  and  drew  out  a large  sealed 
envelope. 

One  close,  scrutinizing  look  was  sufficient  for  his  pur- 
pose. 

“As  I expected  again.  This  time  they  succeeded,  as 
I desired  they  should.  The  envelope  has  been  opened 
and  resealed.  I wonder  what  they  have  clone  with  the 
contents?'’ 

Taking  from  his  pocket  a peculiar-shaped  key,  he  un- 
locked the  small  trunk,  from  which  he  took  a vial  filled 
with  a colorless  fluid.  Some  of  this  he  applied  to  the 
envelope,  after  which  it  opened  without  further  effort 
and  without  breaking  or  marring  the  edges. 

Nick  drew  out  the  inclosure  and  examined  it. 

“So!  Blank  paper  instead  of  the  supposed  will.  I 
would  like  to  know  what  they  thought  when  they  dis- 
covered the  real  meaning  of  its  conteijts.  I imagine 
the  conspirators  are  somewhat  puzzled  over  the  affair. 
They  must  not  suspect,  however,  that  I know"  this  en- 
velope has  been  tampered  with.” 

Thereupon  Nick  replaced  the  sheet  of  blank  paper 
and  carefully  resealed  the  envelope.  A close  scrutiny 
assured  him  that  his  work  had  been  more  artistically 
done  than  their  tampering  which  preceded  it.  He  felt 
sure  no  one  would  suspect  that  the  envelope  had  been 
opened  the  second  time. 

Then  he  put  the  sealed  package  back  into  the  silk 
bag,  made  a few  alterations  in  his  toilet,  and  went 
downstairs. 

On  the  veranda  he  met  Mrs.  Drexel  in  the  apparent 
act  of  entering  the  house.  Mrs.  Storms  was  busy  clos- 
ing windows  and  fastening  shutters. 

“Oh,  Mr.  Vernon!  Is  it  you?”  exclaimed  the  mis- 
tress of  Maplewood.  “We  have  missed  you  this  even- 
ing. W here  have  you  been?” 


79 


The  Conspirators  at  Work. 

. v 

“I  am  almost  ashamed  to  tell  you  that  I took  a stroll 
after  dinner  through  the  woods,  and,  finding  a secluded 
—spot,  I sat  down  and  fell  asleep.” 

“In  the  woods?”  , - 

“Yes.  I came  upon  a most  romantic  spot  down  yon- 
der— a regular  fairies’  deli — cascade,  huge  trees,  moss- 
covered  rocks,  starlit  plateau,  and  all  that.  It  must  be 
enchanted,  too.” 

He  saw  that  his  words  had  a startling  effect  upon  her, 
which  she  could  not  conceal  from  his  keen  professional 
eye  even  in  the  thick  darkness  where  they  stood. 


8o 


Relating-  a Dream* 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

RELATING  A DREAM. 

When  the  mistress  of  Maplewood  again  spoke  to  the 
detective,  there  was  a shade  of  imnaturalness  in  her 
tones. 

“How  romantic!  Did  the  fairies  attend  yon  in  your 
sleep?’’  ') 

“Indeed  they  did;  or  I may  have  dreamed  it.” 
.“What?” 

“It  is  too  absurd  to  talk  about.  You’ll  laugh  at  me 
if  I relate  my  dream.” 

“Oh,  no!  Dreams  are  sometimes  prophetic,  and 

should  not  be  scoffed  at.” 

# 

“Rut  you  were  a prominent  figure  in  this  woodland 
vision  of  mine.” 

“I?  How  strange.  Tell  me  about  it.” 

“I  thought  you  met  a handsome  young  man  on  that 
plateau,  and  made  violent  love  to  him.” 

She  affected  a laugh,  but  it  was  so  unnatural  that 
she  cut  it  off  short,  and,  as  if  at  a loss  for  words  in 
reply,  asked : 

“And,  pray,  who  was  my  handsome  young  lover?” 

“One  of  the  fairies,  probably.  Unfortunately, 
dreams  are  so  unsatisfactory  as  to  details.  I suddenly 

awoke  to  find ” 

/“Well?” 

“Neither  you  nor  your  gallant  lover  of  my  dream 
there.  ’ ’ 

“Too  bad!” 


Relating  a Dream.  81 

“Instead  of  the  couple  of  my  dreams*  one  very  ordi- 
nary, everyday  sorirof  person  occupied  the  plateau.” 
“Oh!  then  the  dream  had  a real  foundation?” 

“Yes.”  ' / 

“And  who  was  the  person  whose  presence  so  wrought 
upon  your  sleeping  fancy?” 

“Your  coachman,  Martin  Maloney.” 

“What!”  The  word  was  uttered  in  a startled  tone. 
She  immediately  controlled  herself,  and  added,  with  a 
pretense  of  indifference: 

“Why,  what  could  he  be  doing  there  at  that  hour? 
Was  he  alone?” 

“Yes.  Before  I could  make  myself  known,  he  picked 
up  something  from  the  plateau,  thrust  it  into  his  pocket 
and  disappeared.” 

“Picked  up  something?  What  was  it?” 

In  spite  of  a supreme  effort  to  appear  unconcerned, 
her  voice  trembled. 

“I  couldn’t  see  distinctly;  but  it  was  something 
white— looked  like  a woman’s  handkerchief,” 

Mrs.  Drexel,  in  spite  of  all  she  could  do,  uttered  a 
half-suppressed  scream. 

Nick  stepped  close  to  her,  and  solicitiously  inquired : 
“Are  you  ill?” 

“No,  no!  A horrid  bat  flew  so  close  to  my  face  I 
was  frightened.  I think  I will  retire.” 

“It  is  getting  late,  and  I,  too,  will  go  to  my  room,” 
“After  your  nap  in  the  woods  I fear  your  sleep  at 
Maplewood  will  not  be  refreshing,”  she  laughingly 
remarked. 

“Not  if  it  is  accompanied  with  such  ridiculous 
dreams. 5 ’ 

“Let  me  hope  your  slumbers  for  the  rest  of  the  night 
may  be  less  mischievous  and  more  conducive  to  health 
Mr.  Vernon.” 


82  Relating  a Dream. 

Nick  bowed  as  she  swept  past,  and  ascended  the 
stairs. 

r 

“No  use  beating  about  the  bush  too  long,55  thought 
Nick,  as  he  watched  her  retreating  figure.  “I’ll  help 
them  reach  the  end  of  their  rope  by  directing  their  plot- 
ting minds  to  m3T  own  person.  Ah!  Another  piece  of 
good  luck!  Madam’s  room  is  directly  across  the  hall 
from  mine.  New,  if  this  night  doesn’t  furnish  more  de- 
velopments of  a rather  startling  nature,  I shall  be  dis- 
appointed.” 

He  spoke  to  Mary  Storms  just  as  Mrs.  Drexel  entered 
her  room  and  closed  the  door. 

“Has  Mr.  Drexel  retired?” 

“Yes,  sir.  He  went  to  his  room  early,  complaining 
of  not  feeling  at  all  well.” 

“No  wonder.  The  absence  of  his  child  is  a great 
grief,  I think.” 

“’Deed  it  is,  sir.  And  with  his  heart  trouble  I am 
afraid  the  result  will  be  very  serious.” 

“Let  us  hope  not,  Mrs.  Storms.  Where  are  the  rest 
of  the  family?”  ^ f ^ 

“Miss  Dolly  retired  half  an  hour  ago.” 

"“And  Mr. — er — Vale?” 

% 

“Oh,  he  does  not  stay  here!”  ‘ ^ 

“No?  I thought  he  was  a guest.” 

“Not  at  all;  only  a daily  visitor.  I believe  he 
boards  at  the  hotel  near  the  railroad  station.” 

“Well,  I see  you  are  closing  the  house,  and  I’ll  not 
detain  you.  Good -night.” 

So  saying,  Nick  slowly  mounted  the  stairs,  entered 
his  room,  closed  the  door  rather  noisily,  and  shot  the 
bolt  so  that  the  sound  was  distinctly  heard  all  over  the 
upper  part  of  the  house. 

For  half  an  hour  more  he  busied  himself,  as  any 
guest  would,  in  preparing  for  bed.  His  watch  was 


Relating  a Dream;  83 

■.Vi  # 

wound,  and  placed  under  the  pillow,  together  with  his 

pocketbook;  clothing  was  carefully  removed  and  hung 
up;  a gape  occasionally  accompanied  the  work. 

At  a certain  stage  in  the  prpceedings  he  poured  water 
from  the  pitcher  into  the  washbowl,  and  bathed  his 
face  and  neck  without  any  attempt  to  be  quiet.  In 
emptying  the  water  from  the  bowl  there  was  a rather 
heavy  contact  between  the  two  vessels,  and  the  ringing 
sound  could  plainly  be  heard  by  any  one  who  might  be 
in  the  next  room,  or  inthe  hall. 

Finally  he  extinguished  the  light,  and  went  to  bed  as 
if  he  anticipated  no  disturbance  to  peaceful  slumber  for 
the  rest  of  the  night. 

After  executing  a few  yawns  he  became  quiet.  But 
neither  ear  pressed  the  pillow.  The  head  of  the  bed 
stood  against  the  wall  between  the  room  and  hall,  and 
every  chord  of  the  detective’s  wonderful  sense  of  hear- 
ing was  strained  to  catch  sounds  which  the  ordinary 
ear  could  not  detect. 

In  about  a quarter  of  an  hour  his  patience  was  re- 
warded. That  which  he  heard  assured  him  somebody 
had  opened  the  door  of  the  opposite  room,  come  out 
into  the  hall,  carefully  closed  and  locked  the  door,  and 
descended  the  stairs,  after  stopping  to  listen  a few 
moments  at  Nick’s  door.  During  these  few  moments 
the  detective’s  breathing  became  deep  and  regular. 

Satisfied  that  the  person,  whoever  it  was,  had  de- 
scended the  stairs,  Nick  almost  noiselessly  arose  and 
hastily  began  to  make  a toilet.  He  didn’t  don  the 
clothes  he  had  just  before  taken  off,  but  selected  his  ap- 
parel from  the  leather  trunk  by  the  aid  of  a bull’s-eye 
lantern. 

In  “making  up”  he  used  a large  clothes  closet,  where 
he  had  the  help  of  a hand -mirror  and  his  dark  lantern. 

When  he  was  ready  for  further  business  it  was  an 


84 


Relating  a Dream. 

almost  exact  image  of  Clinton  Yale,  which  stopped  at 
his  room  door  and  listened  intently  for  fully  a minute. 

The  door  was  then  opened  slowly,  and  without  noise. 
Rick’s  head  gradually  protruded  into  the  hall.  Then 
his  whole  body  emerged. 

He  closed  and  locked  the  door  behind  him.  To  cross 
the  hall  was  the  work  of  four  soundless  steps.  Again 
he  stepped  to  listen.  Then  he  turned  the  knob  of  the  door 
and  bore  against  it.  There  was  no  satisfactory  result; 

In  a moment  a skeleton  key  turned  the  bolt  in  the 
lock,  and  a moment  later  Rick  was  inside  Mrs.  DrexeFs 
room. 

He  closed  and  locked  this  door  behind  him  also,  and 
crossed  the  room  to  the  open  window. 

“Pil  just  see  what  the  prospect  from  this  window  is, 
and  what  are  the  chances  of  reaching  the  ground  from 
it,”  he  muttered.  “My  window  over  there  will  be 
watched,  and  from  it  I’d  have  positively  no  prospect. 
Let  me  take  a peep.” 

He  approached  the  window  carefully,  and  looked 
down.  The  veranda  porch  was  not  four  feet  below  the 
window  sill. 

4 4 There  are  vines  orr^tW  south  end  of  the  veranda, 
and  descent  is  made  easy.  PIT Ha!” 

He  drew  back  a little  into  the  shadows. 

A man’s  head  was  slowly  raising  itself  above  the 
railing  of  the  veranda  roof.  The  man’s  body  followed, 
and  in  less  than  five  seconds  the  midnight  marauder 
was  crawling  like  a snake  toward  the  open  window. 

“Martin  Maloney,  as  I am  a sinner,”  was  Nick’s 
mental  expression.  “Row,  what  does  he,  of  all  men, 
want  in  my  lady’s  chamber?” 

Rick  had  just  time  to  conceal  himself  behind  a pair 
of  portieres  when  the  coachman’s  head  appeared  abcv^ 
the  window  s !'  . 


"A  Burglarious  Proceeding.  • 85 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

A BURGLARIOUS  PROCEEDING, 

There  was  not  the  least  hesitation  about  the  hostler’s 
action  after  his  face  appeared  at  Mrs.  Drexel’s' window. 
With  the  ease  and  grace  of  an  acrobat,  he  leaped  into 
the  room.  Immediately  he  turned  and  gazed  long  and 
searchingly  backward  into  the  space  outside. 

4 ‘He  knows  that  Mrs.  Drexel  is  absent;  he  fears  no 
discovery  from  within,  but  is  not  so  certain  of  his  safety 
from  prying  eyes  without,5’  were  Nick’s  conclusions. 

Becoming  satisfied  that  his  entrance  had  not  been  ob- 
served, Maloney  moved  across  the  room  and  began  a 
rapid  examination  of  everything  which  the  dresser  con- 
tained. To  Nick’s  no  small  astonishment  he  produced 
a dark  lantern  and  a bunch  of  skeleton  keys,  with  which 
he  proceeded  expeditiously  and  rapidly  to  “go  through’* 
Mrs.  Drexel’s  dresser  with  a skill  which  was  little  short 
of  professional. 

The  man’s  work  was  watched  by  Nick  with  the 

greatest  interest.  Was  he  a professional  burglar,  or 

\ 

a rival  detective?  That  was  the  question  Nick  tried  to 
answer  for  himself  while  he  watched  the  mysterious 
person  at  his  strange  work. 

Drawer  after  drawer  was  opened,  searched  with  a 
thorough  skill,  which  the  detective  was  forced  to  ad- 
mire*, and  left  without  a trace  of  the  intruding  hands'. 
In  the  very  last  drawer  Maloney  found  what  he  was 
searching  for,  a fact  which  he  attested  by  the  faintest 
kind  of  ejaculation  of  satisfaction. 


86  A Burglarious  Proceeding. 

It  was  a lady’s  portemonnaie,  which  the  hostler 
fished  out  from  under  a pile  of  small  clothes  in  the  rear 
of  the  drawer.  The  exclamation  indicative  of  success 
was  not  made  until  he  had  opened  the  portemonnaie, 
and  taken  therefrom  part  of  its  contents. 

The  first  items  of  interest  to  him  among  the  contents 
were  two  photographs,  which  he  examined  with  marks 
of  intense  satisfaction.  - 

A plain  white  card  dropped  from  between  the  photo- 
graphs  as  he  took  them  apart.  After  he  had  examined 
the  portraits  to  his  full  satisfaction,  Maloney  picked  up 
the  card  and  was  about  to  replace  it  in  its  former  posi- 
tion when  something  on  its  face  attracted  his  attention. 
Having  examined  it  by  the  aid  of  his  dark  lantern,  the 
hostler  took  a pencil  and  tablet  from  his  pocket  and  ap- 
peared to  copy  that  which  the  card  contained. 

This  evidently  completed  his  stealthy  mission,  for  he 
hastily  restored  card  and  photographs  to  the  porte- 
monnaie. But  before  he  replaced  the  latter  in  its  hid- 
ing place  he  took  something  from  an  inside  pocket,  and 
carefully  laid  it  with  the  other  contents.  Then  the 
portemonnaie  was  restored  to  the  place  where  he  found 
it. 

He  hurriedly  locked  the  drawer,  turned  off  the  light 
from  his  lantern,  and  left  the  room  the  way  he  came, 
without  noise,  and  apparently  without  fear  of  detection. 

Convinced  that  the  coast  was  clear,  Nick  emerged 
from  his  stuffy  hiding-place,  and  lost  no  time  in  getting 
that  mysterious  pocket  book  in  his  hands. 

His  first  object,  of  course,  was  to  examine  the  two 
photographs.  One  was  the  portrait  of  a youth  who 
might  have  been  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  old.  The 
second  was  that  of  a young  man  of  about  twenty.  ^Both 
were  of  the  same  person  at  different  ages,  as  could  be 
plainly  seen  l^l  resemblance  of  the  feature^ 


• ) - I I'M  r 

A Burglarious  Proceeding.  if  87 

“I  wonder  what  it  all  means?”  mused  Nick,  as  he 
looked  first  at  one  and  then  at  the  other.  ‘ ‘ W hat  is 
Mrs.  Drexel  doing  with  these?  Whose  likenesses  are 
they,  and  what  interest  has  the  pseudo  hostler  in  them. 

Nick  was  about  to  replace  the  photos  when  something 
in  the  likeness  of  the  younger  face  attracted  his  atten- 
tion. He  looked  closely  at  it,  and  then  scrutinized  the 

oti  h or 

“Ah!  that  is  more  interesting,”  he  muttered.  , 

That  which  he  almost  overlooked  at  first  was  a small 
cross-shaped  scar  high  upon  the  forehead.  The  hair 
was  cut  short,  and  brushed  back  in  both  pictures,  so 
that  the  peculiar  scar  was  plainly  discernible. 

“That  scar  identifies  the  photographs.  But  bow  did 
they  come  into  the  possession  of  Mrs.  Drexel?  Does 
she  know  that  their  original— Clyde  Van  Dyke  and 
Clinton  Vale— are  one  and  the  same  person?  ^ Has  sne 
ever  seen  that  scar  which  Van  Dyke,  alias  Vale,  con- 
ceals with  his  long  dyed  bangs?”  . 

Remembering  the  hostler’s  interest  in  the  card,  Nick 

also  made  an  examination  of  its  contents.  There  were 
two  addresses  written  thereon  in  the  same  hand  a 
woman’s  writing,  without  doubt. 

They  were  as  follows : 

‘ < No.  — East  Eighteenth  Street.” 

“No.  — Second  Avenue.” 

“Might  as  well  have  them  on  my  list,”  soliloquized 
Nick.  “They  mean  something,  and  I’ll  have  to  find 
out.  what.”  • 

The  card  and  photographs  were  restored  to  the  porte- 
monnaie,  and  then  Nick  drew  out  that  which  Maloney 
had  placed  there  after  taking  it  from  an  inside  pocket. 
It  was  a square  white  envelope,  addressed  simply  to 
“Mr.  Clinton  Vale,”  in  the  same  hand  which  had  writ- 
ten the  double  address  on  the  card.  It  was  sealed ; but 


THAU  51. 1 

A Burglarious  Proceeding. 


a close  scrutiny  of  the  face  convinced  Nick  that  it  bad 
been  deftly  opened  and  skillfully  resealed  beyond  the 
ordinary  power  of  detection. 

I see  it  plainly  now.  inis  is  what  Maloney  picked 
up  on  the  plateau  which  I thought  was  Mrs.  Drexel’s 
handkerchief.  Maloney  knows  what  the  contents  are. 
They  probably  guided  him  to  these  photographs.  But 
why  did  he  put  the  letter  in  here  with  the  other  con- 
tents? Ah!  Perhaps  to  try  to  convince  Mrs.  Drexel 
tha^  she  never  lost  it,  but  put  it  here  herself  by  mistake. 

‘"Well,  if  Maloney  only  knew  about  my  conversation 
with  Mrs.  Drexel  on  the  veranda  this  evening  he  would 
not  have  made  this  mistake.  I’ll  save  him  from  the 
• folly  of  his  blunder.” 

So  saving,  Nick  put  the  letter  into  his  own  pocket, 
and  then  locked  the  portemonnaie  in  its  hiding-place! 

Before  he  had  time  to  rise  from  his  knees  a very  faint 
noise  at  the  door  startled  him. 

Without  losing  a moment  of  time  the  detective 
closed  the  slide  to  his  lantern,  and  in  a moment  was 
once  more  behind  the  portieres. 

He  tvas  just  in  time.  The  door  opened  noiselessly, 

and  Mrs.  Drexel  entered.  A moment  later  she  had 
struck  a light.  ■ ' 

At  the  same  moment  Nick  heard  the  patter  of  rain  on 

the  veranda  roof.  Something  cold  rubbed  against  his 

face,  and  a peculiar  odor  struck  upon  his  sense  of  smelk 

A ho  can  explain  how  these  three  senses  of  hearing, 

feeling  and  ^smelling  came  together  like  a flash  and 

brought  to  Nick  a sense  of  the  extreme  peril  of  his  situ- 
ation.  . ? 

This  is  what  shot  throug’h  his  mind. 

“Her  mackintosh  bangs  at  my  back.  A rain  has 

suddenly  come  up,  and  she  has  returned  for  the  water- 
proof  wrap.” 


4* 

The  Arbor  Again. 


H r i?-/  a l s 

IV  89 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  ARBOR  AGAIN. 

While  Nick  remained  motionless  in  his  hiding- plac©s 
expecting  every  ‘instant  to  see  Mrs.  Drexei  come  direct 
to  the  portieres,  ho  kept  her  every  movement  covered  by 
means  of  a small  opening  between  the  curtains. 

His  astonishment  was  no  less  great  than  satisfactory 
to  see  her  go  toward  her  dresser  instead,  and  having 
unlocked  that  particular  drawer  take  therefrom  the 
same  interesting  portemonniae.  Without  opening  it 
she  thrust  the  purse  into  her  pocket,  and  relocked  the 

drawer. 

Then  what  Nick  feared  occurred. 

She  started  across  the  room  directly  toward  him. 

When  within  reach  of  the  curtain  she  stopped  and 
turned  her  face  toward  the  hall  door.  Then  she  pulled 
out  her  watch  and  consulted  its  hands. 

“I  have  time,  and  must  make  sure  that  the  drug 
worked, ” she  mumbled.  iCI  am  sure  I heard  him  take 
a drink  from  the  pitcher  before  he  went  to  bed.” 

Nick’s  flesh  crept  as  he  heard  these  words;  for  he  re- 
membered that  on  entering  his  room  he  had  found  a 
pitcher  of  ice  water,  from  which  he  had  drank  freely 
just  before  retiring,  without  any  suspicion  of  its  im- 
purity. 

Some  good  fortune  had  saved  him,  but  what  it  was 
he  did  not  know. 

Suddenly  a thought  flashed  through  his  mind. 


.90 


i ) :\m  • • 

The  Arbor  Again. 


“Ah ! J forgot  Ida.  It  is  dollars  to  cents  that  the 
blundering  Katrine  saved  me,”  was  the  thought. 

Mrs.  Drexel  had  turned,  and  was  tiptoeing  her  way 
into  the  hall.  She  stopped  at  the  door  of  Nick’s  room 
and  listened.  Then  she  took  hold  of  the  knob,  and 
turned  it  without  noise.  Having-convinced  herself  that 
the  door  was  locked  she  looked  up  toward  the  transom. 

It  was  closed. 

Returning  to  her  own  room  she  picked  up  a small, 
light  table,  carried  it  across  the  hall,  and  set  it  under 
the  transom.  Then  she  returned  for  a chair  to  be  used 
as  a stepping  convenience. 

In  five  seconds  more  she  would  have  her  head  on  a 
level  with  the  transom.  It  would  take  but  one  instant 
then  for  her  to  discover  that  the  guest  whom  she  sus- 
pected and  feared  was  not  sleeping  in  there  under  the 
effect  of  her  drug,  but  was,  indeed,  not  in  the  room  at 
all. 

Nick  realized  that  his  situation  was  growing  more 
precarious  all  the  time,  and  he  must  act  immediately. 

In  her  careful  ascent  to  the  table  top  her  back  was 
turned  toward  her  own  room.  Nick  saw  his  only  op- 
portunity for  escape,  and  accepted  it. 

Stealthily  but  swiftly  he  crossed  to  the  open  window. 
Just  as  Mrs.  Drexel  was  straightening  herself  upon  the 
table,  Nick  dropped  almost  noiselessly  upon  the  roof  of 
the  veranda. 

By  the  time  Mrs.  Drexel  brought  herself  to  a terrified 
realization  that  the  mysterious  lawyer,  instead  of  being 
drugged,  was  not  even  in  his  bed,  Nick  was  on  the 
ground  working  his  way  carefully  around  to  the  front 
of  the  house. 

Once  there  he  lost  no  time  in  concealing  himself  be- 
hind the  trunk  of  an  immense  maple,  which  stood  about 
two  hundred  feet  from  the  hall  door. 


c o(\ 


The  Arbor  Again. 


l 


ft  111; 

91 


“If  she  is  coming  out  again  she  will  surely  leave  the? 
house  bj7  the  front  or  side  entrance.  I am  now  ih  posi- 
tion to  watch  both  doors,”  said  he  to  his  second  self. 

“That  she  intends  to  meet  some  one  was  shown  by 
her  inquiry  as  to  the  time  of  night  before  she  made  that 
transom  exploration.  I wronder  who  she  is  to  meet? 
Yale,  without  doubt.  But  where?  I’d  give  a neat  sum 
to  know,  so  that  I might  be  in  hearing  distance.  There 
w7ill  be  some  very  interesting  conversation  between  the 
precious  couple  this  time,  I’ll  warrant.” 

His  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  the  opening  of  the 
side  door,  and  the  appearance  of  Mrs.  Drexel  clad  in  the 
mackintosh  which  had  almost  been  the  means  of  trap- 
ping him.  The  mistress  of  Maplewood  plunged  fear- 
lessly into  the  falling  rain,  and  directed  her  stepe 
toward  the  arbor  on  the  edge  of  the  wood  w7here  Nick 
had  had  his  queer  experience  with  the  rabbit. 

“Idiot  that  you  are,  Nick  Carter,”  muttered  the  de- 
tective, as  be  watched  the  woman’s  retreating  figure, 
“You  might  have  known  that  the  tryst  would  be  there, 
and  had  your  writs  not  been  napping  you  would  even 
now  be  ensconced  in  the  copse.  It  is  too  late  now7.” 
He  moved  around  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees  on  the 
lawn,  until  he  could  command  a view  of  the  arbor, 
which  was  faintly  visible  at  some  distance. 

Mrs.  Drexel  was  the  first  to  reach  the  arbor.  Shortly 
after  her  arrival  the  figure  of  a man  came  out  of  the' 
woods  near  by,  and  also  disappeared  in  the  arbor. 

“The  two  conspirators  are  together,”  wTas  what  Nick 
said  to  himself;  “and  I am  outside  the  breastworks. 
All  I can  do  is  to  wait  and  wateb.” 

Feeling  anything  but  pleased  with  himself,  Nick  sat 
down  at  the  foot  of  a tree  and,  riveting  his  eyes  upon  the 
outlines  of  the  distant  arbor,  tried  to  imagine  w hat  that 
designing  couple  were  saying  to  each  other. 


pjnppwip  , „jpi 

The  Arbor  Again. 


The  noise  of  the  rain  pattaring  on  the  leaves  overhead 
killed  the  sound  of  light  footsteps  which  approached 
him  from  the  rear ; and  when  a hand  fell  gently  on  his 
shoulder  he  came  nearer  losing  self-control  than  ever  in 
his  whole  eventful  life. 

Before  he  had  time  to  turn  his  head,  a soft  voice 
whispered  “Brother!”  Then  he  remembered  his  dis- 
guise, and  the  truth  flashed  upon  him. 

It  was  Dolly  Meredith,  and  she  had  mistaken  him 
for  Yale. 

“I  saw  you  from  my  window  hovering  around  the 
house,  and  terror  has  brought  me  out  to  you  at  this  un- 
seemly hour.  Oh ! brother,  why  do  you  act  so  strangely? 
For  my  sake,  if  not  for  your  own,  go  away  at  once  be- 
fore you  are  discovered.” 

“She  believes  that  man  is  her  fugitive  brother.  That 
is  the  secret  of  his  power  over  her,”  was  Nick’s  rapid 
conclusions.  “Well,  I’ll  play  his  part  just  this 
once.” 

Imitating  Vale’s  voice,  Nick  said  in  a surly  tone, 
without  raising  his  head  : 

“Go  away,  indeed!  That  is  easy  for  you  to  say. 
But  what  will  I go  away  on?  I told  you  I would  go  if 
you’d  give  me  a thousand  dollars.” 

“And  will  you  really  goflf  I give  you  that  sum?” 

“Yes;  I promise  that  youswill  never  again  see  your 
unfortunate  brother  after  the  dajr  you  hand  me  that 
amount.”  4 4 

“Then  do  not  delay  an  hour,”  she  said,  thrusting  a 
roll  of  something  like  paper  into  his  hands.  “There 
is  the  amount.  You’ll  find  it  does  not  lack  a dollar  of 
the  sum  named.  Go;  and  Heaven  bless  and  save  vou!” 

Nick  experienced  a mean  feeling  as  the  girl  threw 
her  arms  about  his  neck,  and  affectionately  kissed  him 
several  times. 


j j j-  jj  1 1 y 

. ^ 'I  H i 1 J 1 

The  Arbor  Again.  93 

$ 

€'For  tbe  sake  of  our  dead  mother,  try  to  redeem  your 
life,”  she  sobbed. 

“ Where  did  you  get  this  money?”  asked  Nick,  with* 
out  offering  to  return  one  mark  of  her  sisterly  affection. 

She  arose,  and  stepped  back  before . she  replied,  in  a 
voice  free  from  the  tearful  emotion  which  filled  it  but  a 
moment  before: 

“It  is  not  necessary  for  you  to  know.  You  have  the 
money.  I have  your  promise.  Good-by,  and  Heaven 
guard  you.”  ' ** 

She  turned  and  fled  to  the  house. 

Nick  arose,  and  moved  away,  but  was  careful  not  to 
lose  sight  of  the  arbor,  nor  yet  to  leave  the  shadow  of 
the  trees  on  the  lawn.  When  convinced  that  he  was 
out  of  sight  of  any  one  in  Maplewood,  he  again  sat 
down  and  waited.  ( 

It  was  nearly  dawn  when  Mrs.  Drexel  returned  .to  the 
house,  and  her  co-conspirator  struck  off  into  the  woods 
on  his  return  to  the  hotel  at  the  station. 

Nick  sat  still  for  some  time  after  Mrs.  Drexel  disap- 
peared within  the  doors  at  Maplewood.  His  eyes  were 
glued  on  the  arbor,  and  his  mind  was  busy  laying  out 
his  plans  for  the  future. 

Something  which  he  never  could  explain  at  last 
caused  him  to  turn  his  eyes  to  the  left,  just  in  time  to 
see  the  figure  of  a man  enter  the  shadows  of  a clump  of 
trees  on  the  lawn  about  ten  rods  below  where  he  sat. 

“It  is  Karl  Koenig — Chick!”  was  Nick’s  joyful  con- 
clusion. “I’ll  head  him  off,  and  find  out  what  he  has 
been  up  to.” 

Without  losing  any  time,  he  arose  and  bent  his  steps 
hastily  in  a direction  which  would  be  sure  to  intercept 
his  assistant.  His  calculations  were  so  true  that  a col- 
lision was  almost  the  result. 

Chick  was  startled..  He  had  seen  Yale  dePaH  in  an 


/ '! !'  ! f 

i'f  ‘ 1 1 r it 

1 1 ■ ■ • * ’ 1 1 I ■■  h ,*«  I 1 f , I » .$ 

94  The  Arbor  Again. 

entirely  opposite  direction,  and  it  was  a mystery  to  him 
how  the  man  had  managed  to  run  across  his  path  at 
this  remote  point. 

Nick,  however,  relieved  his  puzzled  and  troubled 
mind  with  a 'word. 

“Chick,” 

“Thunder!  Is  it  you,  Nick?” 

“Yes.  Where  have  you  been?” 

“In  that  rabbit  hole  under  the  copse  behind  the  arbor 
ouf  yonder.” 

“Chick!  You  don’t  mean  you  heard  all  that  passed 
(between  Mrs.  Drexel  and  Yale  just  now”’ 

“Don’t  I though!  And  say,  Nick,  it’s  a ten  strike- 
pure  gold  a foot  thick.” 

“Chick,”  said  Nic&,  grasping  the  young  man’s  hand; 
“you  are  yourself  all  gold,  nearly  six  feet  high,” 


95 


( r.  h M 

1 fl , I 1 


Which  Ends  in  a T ra  ^edy. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

WHICH  ENDS  IN  A TRAGEDY. 

Chick  accepted  his  superiors  compliment  without 
the  least  show  of  vanity. 

“How  did  it  happen  that  you  were  hidden  in  that 
copse  at  the  ,very  time  it  did  the  most  good?”  was 
Nick’s  next  inquiry. 

“To  be  there  when  Yale  met  Mrs.  Drexel.  It  was 
lucky  you  told  me  about  the  hiding-place,  else  X might 
not  have  succeeded  in  the  work.” 

“Yes!  yes!  But  how  did  you  know  about  the  meet* 
ing  in  advance?” 

“I  carried  Mrs.  Drexel’s  note  to  Vale.” 

“To-night?” 

“Yes.  She  awakened  xne  just  before  midnight  and 
asked  me  to  take  a note  to  Mr.  Vale  at  his  hotel.  I 
got  a ten-dollar  bill  to  plaster  up  my  mouth.” 

Chick  chuckled  and  Nick  smiled. 

“Of  course  you  opened  and  read  the  note?” 

“Need  you  ask?” 

“Well!  What  did  it  say?” 

“It  demanded  an  interview  in  the  arbor  at  one 
o’clock.  To  make  sure  he  would  not  fail  to  come,  she 
used  these  words  underscored! 

“ 6 You  have  had  me  in  your  power  till  to-night.  I 
now  know  your  past  as  well  as  you  know  it  yourself, 
and  will  show  you  proofs  of  my  knowledge.  I could 
send  you  to  State  prison  and  maybe  farther;  but  I have 
no  Uesire  to  declare  war  unless  you  force  me.  It  will 


96  Which  Ends  in  a Tragedy. 

be  far  better  for  us  both  to  remain  allies.  But  we  must 
come  to  a perfect  understanding  io-night.  Fail  to  come 
on  peril  of  your  liberty  if  not  of  your  life.  * ” 

“You  have  a good  memory,  my  boy.” 

.“It  is  part  of  the  business  you  have  always  taught 
me.” 

“True.  Now  tell  me  what  happened  when  they 
met.  ” 

“Mrs.  Drexel  was  the  first  to  arrive,  but  she  had  not 
long  to  wait.  Yale  arrived  five  minutes  later,  coming 
by  way  of  the  woods.  ^ 

“‘What  does  this  mean,  Helen?’  were  his  first 
words;  and  I imagine  a frown  marred  his  features.  1 
“ ‘It  means,  Clyde  Van  Dyke,  that  you  no  longer 
have  a monopoly  of  secrets ; and  I’ll  thank  you  hereafter 
to  be  less  familiar,  and  address  me  as  Mrs.  Drexel.’ 

“He  did  not  answer  at  once.  It  seemed  to  me  he 
was  delaying  while  he  gained  control  of  his  voice. 
When  he  spoke  his  voice  was  very  even  and  placid : 

“ ‘You  call  me  by  a name  I do  not  bear.’ 

“ ‘Not  now.  You  have  good  reason  to  drop  it,  Clyde 
Yan  Dyke.  But  it  once  belonged  to  you,  and  you  can 
no  more  deny  it  than  you  can  deny  that  scar  under  your 
dyed  hair!’ 

“He  sprang  toward  her  and  fairly  hissed: 

“ ‘Death,  woman!  Do  you  know  what  you  are  say- 
ing?’ j 

“Mrs.  Drexel  stepped  back  before  his  murderous 
wrath,  but  lost  no  time  in  warning  him : 

“ ‘The  worst  thing  you  can  do  for  your  future  wel- 
fare is  to  lay  your  hands  on  me  in  violence.  Do  you 
think  I am  so  crazy  as  to  beard  you  alone  at  dead  of 
night  and  confront  you  with  a secret,  to  preserve  which 
you  would  not  hesitate  at  murder,  unless  I was  prepared  J 
to  guard  myself ?* 


Which  Ends  in  a Tragedy.  97 

“ ‘And  what  is  to  prevent  my  killing  you  here  and 
stilling  your  meddlesome  tongue?' 

“ lWhat?  Why,  the  knowledge  that  the  party  from 
whom  I got  my  information  of  your  past  is  alive  and 
safe  from  your  reach;  the  kno wedge  that  any  harm 
which  might  come  from  you  to  me  would  be  avenged 
before  you  could  get  your  guilty  head  into  hiding.’ 

“ ‘Who  is  this — this  informant?’ 

“ ‘You  might  guess.’ 

“ ‘But  one  person  is  alive  who  could  tell  you  what 
you  have  told  me.’ 

“ ‘You  mean  Mrs.  Storms,  your  mother?’ 

“ ‘Yes.  I cannot  believe,  however,  that  she  has  be- 
trayed me.’ 

“ ‘ Rest  easy  on  that  point.  Your  charming  parent 
has  betrayed  no  one  but  me,  who  trusted  and  believed 
in  her  as  a Christian  trusts  the  Savior.  ’ 

“ ‘But  she  and  I were  the  only  living  persons  who 
held  that  secret.  ’ 

“ ‘There  was  another,  ye£rs  ago.’ 

“ ‘She  died  before  her  lips  had  a chance  to  give  away 
our  secret.  ’ • 

“ ‘You  thought  so.  She  is  alive,  however,  to-day.’ 

“ ‘I  don’t  believe  it.  I saw  her  dead  in  her  coffin, 
and  the  coffin  covered  by  six  feet  of  earth.’ 

“ ‘From  which  she  was  restored  to  life  as  by  a mira- 
cle, and  afterward  kept  in  concealment.’ 

“ ‘A  likely  story.’ 

“ ‘I  can  prove  it  to  your  eminent  satisfaction.’ 

“ ‘Well,  try  it.’ 

“ ‘At  the  time  of  her  supposed  death  she  possessed 
two  photographs  of  you—one  taken  at  the  age  of  six- 
teen, just  before  she  became  possessed  of  your  first  vital 
secret;  the  other  taken  at  the  age  of  twenty-one  when 
she  forced  you  to  make  her  j^our  wife.’ 


98  - Which  Ends  in  a Tragedy. 

“ ‘Well?’ 

“ ‘When  she  uied,  as  you  supposed,  those  photo- 
graphs could  not  be  found.  They  are  here.’ 

“Mrs.  Drexel  took  something  from  her  pocket  and 
handed  it  to  him. 

“Whatever  it  was  it  caused  him  to  utter  a half-sup- 
pressed  oath. 

“ ‘Where  did  you  get  these?5 

“ ‘From  the  woman  you  believed  to  be  in  her  grave, 
with  your  secret  buried  in  her  coffin — from  your 
wronged  wife.5 

“ ‘And  if  I believe  all  you  have  told  me,  what  then? 
What  do  you  propose  to  do  about  it?5 

“ ‘Now  you  are  talking  sense.  I propose  to  disar- 
range your  plans  somewhat,  and  advance  my  own  to  a 
certain  extent.5 

“‘Humph!  Goon!  I am  listening.5 

“ ‘In  the  first  place,  our  marriage,  so  kindly  arranged 
by  you  to  take  place  after  DrexePs  death,  is  off.5 

“ ‘You  have  reconsidered  your  plan  of  becoming  a 
widow  since  your  husband’s  deception  of  the  will  was 
discovered.  Is  that  it?5 

“ ‘That  is  not  it.  X have  not  reconsidered  my  de- 
termination to  be  Gideon  DrexePs  widow,  and  that 
right  speedil3r.  * Therefore  I shall  need  your  co-opera- 
tion.5 

“ ‘The  will  I was  forging  when  your  note  came  to- 
night—that  is  to  be  finished?5 

“ ‘No.  I need  that  no  more  than  I need  you  as  a 
second  husband.5 

“ ‘You  do  not  intend  to  surrender  the  estate?  You 
hope  to  get  control  of  it  through  the  child?5 

“ ‘Wrong  again.  You  know,  as  I know,  that  such 
a scheme  is  impossible.  And  I now  understand  tho 
source  of  your  information  regarding  that  secret.5 


99 


Which  Ends  in  a Tragedy. 


“ ‘Well,  be  kind  enough  to  lay  your  plans  before  me 
without  an  accompaniment  of  riddles.  You  will  pro- 
ceed with  the  plan  to  make  yourself  Gideon  Drexers 
widow,  knowing  full  well  there  is  no  will,  and  know- 
ing further  that  Daisy  Drexel  is  not  Gideon  Drexel’s 
heir-at-law.  Now,  how  do  you  propose  to  get  hold  of 
Gideon  Drexel’s  millions?’ 

“ ‘By  marrying  the  heir-at-law.’ 

“ ‘Not  Frank  Willoughby?’ 

“ ‘Yes;  Frank  Willoughby.’ 

“ ‘Bah!  He  is  dead  in  love  with  Miss  Meredith.’ 

“ ‘Your  supposed  sister.  You  see  I know  your  hold 
over  her,  too.  ’ 

‘Well!  \ ou  seem  to  be  better  informed  than  you 
were  yesterday.  So  you  will  marry  Willoughby, 
How  will  you  manage  it?’ 

“ ‘Easily  enough,  with  your  help.’ 

“ ‘Oh!  Fm  to  help  to  marry  the  woman  I love  to  a 
man  who  does  not  love  her,’  sneered  Yale.  ‘ What  if  I 
refuse?’ 

‘You’ll  not  refuse.  There  are  worse  things  you 
can  do  for  yourself  than  that.’ 

“‘Well;  what  am  I to  do?’  - 

“ ‘Make  Willoughby  believe  you  are  Miss  Meredith’s 
favored  lover,  and  then  take  her  away  for  a week  im- 
mediately after  Mr.  Drexel’s  death.’ 

“ ‘Is  that  all?’ 

‘Yes.  And  with  your  power  over  her  it  is  quite 
easy  to  do.  ’ 


‘Good!  Now’  where  do  I come  in  as  a beneficiary 
of  this  pretty  scheme?  Or  am  I to  work  for  love  and 
other  considerations?’ 


<i  <You  will  not  be  a loser  in  the  affair  by  any  means. 
In  the  first  place,  you  will  be  allowed  to  remain  in 


peaceful  poss 


ssession 


of  your 


nothing  of 


ioo  Which  Ends  in  a Tragedy. 

your  valuable  life.  Then  I shall  induce  my  second 
husband  to  settle  upon  Miss  Meredith  ten  thousand  dol- 
lars a year  out  of  the  estate. ’ 

44  ‘Delightful — for  Miss  Meredith!  But  where  do  I 
come  in?’ 

4 4 4 As  her  brother  (?)  you  will  have  no  trouble  in  get- 
ting possession  of  the  lion’s  share  of  the  money.’ 

4 4 4 But  to  Willoughby  I’ll  be  her  lover,  and  he’d  see 
us  both  in  perdition  before  he’d  settle  any  such  sum 
upon  the  woman  who  had  jilted  him.  My  dear  Mrs. 
Brexel,  I fear  you ’ 

44  ‘Don’t  take  me  fora  fool.  Willoughby  will  of 
course  first  learn  Dolly’s  sad  history  and  self-sacrifice. 
The  rest  will  be  easy.  Leave  that  to  me.’ 

4 4 4 And  after  he  learns  about  this  sisterly  sacrifice, 
how  pleasant  it  will  be  for  you— his  unloved  wife.’ 

44  ‘Now  don’t  worry  your  dear,  loving  heart  about 
me.  I’ll  manage  to  take  care  of  myself.’ 

44  ‘And  this  resurrected  wife  of  mine;  wdsat  have  I to 
expect  from  her?’ 

44  4 No  trouble  whatever;  I will  guarantee  that.  She 
will  be  only  too  glad  to  be  well  out  of  your  way.  She 
will  not  get  out  of  her  coffin  the  next  time.’ 

4 4 Vale  grasped  her  by  the  wrist,  and  asked  hoarsely: 
4 4 4 What  do  you  mean?’ 

4 4 4 1 mean  that  she  will  have  a visitor  at  her  address 
in  the  city  the  day  of  my  marriage  to  Willoughby- 
after  all  my  interests  are  safe.  After  the  visitor  leaves 
there  will  be  no  mistake  left  behind.  There  will  be  no 
need  of  a third  attempt  to  bury  your  secret  with  her 
coffin.  ’ 

44  ‘You  mean  it?  You  swear  it?’ 

44  4 1 do.  Now  you  see  that  we  sink  or  swim  to- 
gether, but  in  altogether  a different  way  from  which 
you  planned/  ; v 


IOI 


Which  Ends  in  a Tragedy. 


“Vale  uttered  a subdued  laugh  which  he  seemed  un- 
able to  suppress.  Mrs.  Drexel  probably  read  its  mean- 
ing, for  she  immediately  said  • 

" ‘Now  do  not  for  a moment  think  that  you  will 
have  me  in  your  power  by  reason  of  my  part  in  the 
removal  of  your  wife.  Our  interests  will  be  mutual 
We  must  work  together.  Our  necks  will  be  in  the 
same  noose,  and  so  long  as  we  are  true  to  each  other  the 
noose  will  never  tighten.  It  will  be  a necklace  of  gold 
and  precious  stones  instead.  Is  it  a bargain?’ 

‘He  grasped  her  hand  and  said,  without  any  hesita- 
tion : 


<Yes;  1 am  with  you  to  the  end.  Helen— Mrs. 
Drexel,  I admire  you  more  than  I ever  did  before  in  my 
life,  and  am  truly  sorry  to  lose  you — to  give  you  up  to 
another.  • But  I bow  to  the  inevitable.  ’ 

“ ‘That’s  the  talk  of  the  sensible  man  I took  you  for. 
Meet  me  here  at  noon  to-morrow  and  we’ll  arrange  for 
the  departure  of  my  husband  on  his  long  journey.’ 

“ ‘ And  what  of  the  kid?’ 


Never  mind  her  at  present.  She  is  in  safe  hands, 
I suppose?’ 

“ ‘Yes.  You  will  have  no  use  for  her  now.’ 

‘ ‘I  may.  See  that  no  harm  comes  to  her.’ 

“After  a few  more  words  of  no  importance  she  left. 
He  watched  her  till  she  was  out  of  hearing. 

“Then  he  said,  with 'a  great  oath: 

“ ‘She  marry  Willoughby?  I give  her  up?  Not  for 
twice  the  amount  of  old  Drexel’s  millions.  She  is  an 
angelic  demon,  and  such  a woman  as  I would  sell  my 
soul  to  possess.  She  plots  well ; but  she  is  dealing  with 
an  arch-plotter,  and  her  master.  Wait,  my  lady,  till 
I play  my  trump  card.’  ” 

“And  that’s  all?”  said  Nick,  as  Chick  signified  that 
his  information  was  ended. 


102  Which  Ends  in  a Tragedy. 

44 Isn’t  it  enough?” 

Without;  answering,  Nick  spoke  with  impressive 
earnestness: 

“Chick,  I’ll  relieve  you  of  your  espionage  over  Yale. 
I want  you  to  take  up  the  case  of  Maloney,  the  coach- 
man, and  not  lose  sight  of  him  until  further  orders.’ 

“All  right.  What  do  you  make  of  this  Maloney, 
Nick?” 

“Nothing  yet.  But  if  you  keep  him  well  under 
cover,  we  will  make  something  out  of  him  soon.  Mar- 
tin Maloney  is  about  to  transact  some  business  on  his 
own  hook;  and  we  must  keep  track  of  it.” 

“Trust  me  to  do  it.” 

The  two  men  thereupon  parted.  Nick  slipped  up  to 
the  house  in  the  deep  darkness  which  preceded  the 
dawn,  and  taking  full  risks  upon  the  chance  that  Mrs. 
Drexel  had  gone  to  her  room  for  a little  much  needed 
rest  after  her  excitement  of  the  nearly  spent  night,  he 
boldty  entered  the  parlor  by  forcing  the  catch  on  one  of 
the  veranda  windows. 

He  was  not  aware  that  a pair  of  gleaming  eyes 
watched  him  at  this  work  from  behind  the  same  tree 
which  had  hidden  him  when  Mrs.  Drexel  left  the  house 
to  meet  Yale,  else  he  would  not  have  been  so  careless 
as  to  leave  the  window  unfastened... 

Once  inside,  he  had  little  trouble  in  reaching  his 
room  without  observation.  % 

His  first  act  after  getting  behind  closed  doors  was  to 
go  into  the  dark  closet,  light  his  bull’s-eye,  open  and 
read  the  contents  of  the  letter  Maloney  had  picked  up 
in  the  woods. 

It  was  voluminous,  covering  twelve  closely  written 
pages.  As  he  read  the  great  detective’s  eyes  fairly 
snapped  wTith  the  satisfaction  the  information  he  was 
getting  gave^lii^ 


Which  Ends  in  a Tragedy.  103 

*#Now  I’m  loaded  for  bear/’  he  said,  as  he  folded  the 
letter  and  replaced  it  in  its  envelope.  4 ‘The  soonor  I 
act  the  safer  it  will  be  for  DrexeL  I’ll  get  a nip  of 
rest,  and  then  I’ll  descend  upon  the  nest  of  vipers.” 

He  threw  himself  upon  the  bed  for  an  hour’s  nap; 
but  when  he  awoke  the  sun  was  streaming  in  at  the 
windows. 

His  first  sense  of  the  situation  was  to  realize  that 
some  unusual  excitement  was  agitating  the  inmates  of 
Maplewood. 

Nick  had  not  undressed  when  he  lay  upon  the  bed, 
and  forgetting  that  he  was  disguised  to  appear  as  Yale, 
he  opened  his  door  and  listened. 

The  sound  of  confusion  came  from  the  lower  floor. 

Without  further  hesitation  he  descended  the  stairs. 

Across  the  hall  from  the  library  in  the  rear  of  the 
parlor  was  Mr.  Drexel’s  bedroom. 

It  was  from  that  room  the  subdued  noise  came. 

Nick  hurried  back,  and  entered  without  observation 
* y the  excited  persons  gathered  around  Mr.  Drexel’s 
bed. 

One  glance  at  that  bed  told  Nick  the  cause  of  the  ex* 
eitement. 

The  millionaire  importer  lay  there,  on  his  back,  dead, 
with  a knife  blade  in  his  heart,  and  the  handio  of  the 
knife  protruding  above  the  fatal  wound. 


104  Another  Dilemma  for  Nick. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

ANOTHER  DILEMMA  FOR  NICK. 

The  sight  which  greeted  Nick  when  he  entered  the 
bedroom  of  the  owner  of  Maplew'ood  was  an  awful  sur- 
prise. It  had  been  his  intention  to  warn  Mr.  Drexel 
early  that  morning  of -the  danger  which  menaced  his 
life,  and  arrange  to  guard  against  the  attempt  which  he 
felt  sure  would  be  made  to  assassinate  the  intended 
victim  at  an  early  day. 

He  had  no  idea  that  the  old  man’s  doom  was  so  near. 

Now  he  was  too  late.  The  victim  of  the  wickedest 
woman  since  the  days  of  Borgia  lay  there  on  that  bed, 
beyond  human  help. 

One  comprehensive  glance  told  Nick  who  was  in  the 
room.  Mrs.  Storms,  Ida,  Dolly  Meredith,  the  cook, 
and  Mrs.  Drexel,  composed  the  gathered  household 
around  the  bed. 

Nick  looked  in  vain  for  the  hostler  or  the  counterfeit 
gardener.  Both  were  missing. 

Dolly  Meredith  had  clasped  one  of  the  dead  man’s 
hands  in  both  her  own,  and,  while  sobbing  bitterly,  kept 
chafing  it  as  if  trying  to  start  the  stagnant  blood  in  the 
corpse’s  veins.  The  cook  had  her  apron  over  her  head, 
and  was  in  a state  of  hysterical  terror.  Tda’s  eyes  were 
sweeping  over  the  others  and  quietly  noting  the  effect 
which  the  scene  had  upon  the  different  people  assem- 
bled there.  , ^ 

The  look  upon  Mrs.  Drexel's  face  was  enigmatical. 


Another  Dilemma  for  Nick.  105 

__  i 

it,  was  not  one  of  satisfaction,  guilt,  sorrow,  horror  or 
stupefaction. 

4 ‘It  has  been  a surprise  to  her,  anyhow,”  thought 
Nick,  as  he  watched  the  group. 

Raising  her  eyes  she  saw  him  standing  just  inside 
the  doorway.  A scowl  crossed  her  face,  and  she  im- 
mediately approached  him. 

“This  is  no  place  for  you.  Follow  me,”  she  whis- 
pered, as  she  passed. 

Nick  suddenly  recollected  his  disguise,  and  at  once 
guessed  that,  careless  as  it  had  been  made,  it  was  a 
good  enough  counterfeit  of  her  confederate  to  deceive 
ter  in  the  dim  light  at  the  rear  of  the  room  where  he 
stood. 

He  turned  and  followed  her  into  the  hall.  She  led 
the  way  to  the  library,  and  he  went  in,  too. 

The  shutters  were  not  open,  and  it  was  nearly  total 
darkness  which  shut  them  in  as'  she  closed  the  door. 

Coming  close  to  him,  until  her  excited  breath  almost 
scorched  his  cheek,  she  hissed  in  words  which  were  full 
of  emotion : 

“Is  that  your  blundering  work,  you  fool?” 

Nick  was  a good  imitator,  and  it  seemed  to  be  the 
real  Vale  who  answered  : 

“No,  madam!  I have  had  no  hand  in  the  fortunate 
affair !” 

“Fortunate!  You  don’t  know  what  you  are  saying.” 

“Why,  he  was  to  die;  and  the  sooner  the  better.  I 
though  you  depended  on  me  for  the  deed.” 

“Oh,  you  miserable  idiot!  Why  didn’t  you  wait  till 
I gave  you  your  instructions?  Such  a blunder !’  * 

“What  would  you  have  had  me  do?” 

“Not  butcher  him  and  pull  down  on  us  the  investiga- 
tion which  is  sure  to  come  after  this  wretched  affair. 
Had  you  waited  and  followed  my  instructions  it  would 


io6  Another  Dilemma  for  Nick. 


have  been  a case  of  heart  failure,  and  no  suspicions 
would  have  arisen.  You  deserve  to  have  your  neck 
stretched  for  this  l” 

u They  can’t  stretch  my  neck  without  giving  yours 
a tweak  at  the  same  time,”  chuckled  Nick.  “But  I 
assure  you  I had  no  knowledge  of  the  affair,  much  less 
a hand  in  it,  until  I entered  the  room  and  saw  what 
caused  the  commotion.” 

* \ Are  you  telling  me  the  truth?” 

“As  I live,  I am.” 

“Then  who  could  have  done  it?” 

“I  don’t  know,  nor  care,  so  long  as  it  relieves  us  of 
the  job.” 

“That; lawyer,  Vernon,  if  he  was  a lawyer,  is  gone.” 
“Gone?” 

“Left  his  room  last  night  after  undressing  and  going 
to  bed.  What  is  still  more  strange,  he  left  his  clothes, 
watch  and  pocketbook  in  the  room.” 

“Went  away  in  his  nightdress?  Maybe  he’s  a 
somnamublist,  and  billed  Drexel  while  walking  in  his 
sleep?” 

“I  gave  you  credit  for  better  sense.  That  man  was 
a detective.” 

“No!  What  was  he  doing  here?’ 

“Brought  here  by  Mr.  Drexel.” 

“For  what  purpose?” 

“I  wish  I knew.” 

“Then  where  is  this  detective — this  pretended  law- 
yer?” 

“I  wish  I knew  that,  too.” 

“Do  you  connect  him  with  the  murder?” 

“No.” 


“What  is  your  theory?” 

“I  have  none  yet.  There  are  some  mysteries  to  clear 
up  before  I can  form  an  opinion.” 


Another  Dilemma  for  Nick  107 

‘ ‘Mysteries?  What  mysteries?’ ’ 
i ‘The  house  was  entered  some  time  last  night  by 
gome  one  who  forced  the  catch,  of  a window  on  the 
veranda,  and  thereby  secured  entrance  to  the  parlor.” 
“The  lawyer?” 

“Bah!  He  went  out  by  the  door.  Why  should  he 
want  to  come  back  by  force.  The  hall  door  was  found 
open  this  morning.” 

“Well,  what  other  mysteries  are  there  to  report?” 
“The  hostler  and  the  gardener  are  both  gone.” 

“How  long  has  this  hostler  been  at  Maplewood?” 
“About  a month.  He  came  here  the  day  after  you 
put  in  an  appearance.  You  may  have  brought  him, 
for  all  1 know.  If  you  are  playing  me  false,  it  is  the 
most  dangerous  act  of  your  life.” 

“Rest  easy  on  that  point.  I know  as  little  about 
Martin  Maloney  as  you  do.” 

“I  hope,  for  your  sake,  as  well  as  my  own,  that  you 
speak  the  truth.  That  makes  Maloney  all  the  more  a 
mystery.  My  suspicions  have  been  aroused  about  him 
for  several  days.  Last  night  they  were  intensified.” 
“How?” 

“I  wrote  you  a letter  yesterday  afternoon  which  I 
had  intended  to  send  you  instead  of  meeting  yon  last 
midnight,  as  I did.  The  letter  recounted  the  entire 
history  of  your  life  as  well  as  facts  which  were  yours 
and  your  mother’s  secrets  till  very  lately.  Besides,  I 
gave  as  proofs  of  what  I said  the  information  that  I had, 
locked  up  in  my  room,  these  two  photographs,  which  I 
would  produce  when  I saw  yon.  I intended  to  send 
this  letter  by  the  gardener,  as  I sent  the  second  on ; but 
while  I was  looking  for  him  I saw  Miss  Meredith 
sneaking  away  from  the  house,  and  I followed  hero 
While  doing  so  I dropped  the  letter  I had  written  to 
you.  This  Malon-y,  as  he  calls  himself,  found  it.” 


io8  Another  Dilemma  for  Nick. 

9 

“And  returned  it  to  vou?” 

•0 

“No.  That  is  why  I suspect  and  fear  him.” 

“Then  he,  too,  has  my  secret  in  his  possession?” 

“It  must  be  so!  He  knows  you  are  not  what  you 
seem.  Now  if  you  want  to  send  anybody  out  of  this 
world,  I advise  you  to  give  your  attention  to  the 
hostler;  and  don’t  forget  the  gardener  while  you  are 
ridding  us  of  troublesome  people.” 

There  was  a ring  of  hardened  desperation  in  her  voice 
which  made  Nick’s  flesh  creep. 

“Why,  vrhat  has  the  gardener  done?” 

“He  has  suddenly  disappeared;  didn’t  I tell  you?  I 

* 

don’t  like  these  sudden  disappearances — just  at  this 
time.” 

“But  his  sister  is  still  here.  I saw  her  in ” 

“Yes,  Katrine  is  still  here;  and  I mean  to  watch  her 
closely.  This  German  couple  are  not  what  they  seem.” 
“Indeed!” 

“The  house  is  full  of  spies.  I fear  we  have  been 
trapped.”  ^ / 

“Your  fears  are  of  recent  growth.” 

“I  did  not  suspect  the  hostler  coachman  seriously,  till 
I discovered  yesterday  that  he  had  found  and  kept  my 
letter.  I began  to  fear  the  maid  when  I discovered  at 
midnight  that  she  had  changed  pitchers  and  left  in  my 
room  the  one  I had  drugged  for  the  lawyer.  Fortu- 
nately I didn’t  drink  from  it.” 

“And  the  gardener?” 

“The  gardener  came  under  my  suspicion  after  I had 
discovered  the  methodical  blunder  of  his  so-called  sis- 
ter. My  suspicions  were  confirmed  this  morning  when 
I discovered  that  he  had  disappeared.”  * 

“This  is  no  ordinary  woman,”  thought  Nick,  while 
she  paused  as  if  trying  to  gather  up  her  disarranged 
plot. 


Another  Dilemma  for  Nick.  109 

Before  the  silence  in  their  conversation  was  broken 
there  came  a sharp  knock  on  the  door. 

.“Well,  what  is  it?”  responded  Mrs.  Drexel,”  rais- 
ing her  voice,  x . 

“Oh,  are  }^ou  there,  Mrs.  Drexel?”  came  from  with- 
out in  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Storms.  “Mr.  Yale  is  here  and 
wants  to  see  you.  He  is  in  the  parlor.” 


I IO 


The  Plotters  at  Bay. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  PLOTTERS  AT  BAY. 

The  unexpected  announcement  made  by  Mrs.  Storms 
was  no  less  startling  to  Mrs.  Drexel  than  it  was  to 
Nick.  The  latter,  however,  had  the  advantage  in  un- 
derstanding what  was  another  puzzle  for  the  brain  of 
the  archplotter. 

He  knew  that  a crisis  had  come  which  demanded  im- 
mediate action  of  an  heroic  and  daring  kind. 

In  none  of  the  suits  of  his  many  disguises  was  there 
missing  a certain  small  vessel  containing  a certain 
amount  of  chloroform,  so  arranged  that  by  a slight  pres- 
sure of  the  hand  the  drug  would  be  emptied  upon  a 
sponge  and  almost  instantly  absorbed  there. 

The  sound  of  Mrs.  Storms’  footsteps  had  not  died 
away,  as  she  left  the  hall,  before  Nick’s  anaesthetic 
weapon  was  loaded  and  held  ready  for  use. 

None  too  soon,  either. 

Mrs.  Drexel  grasped  him  by  the  arm  and  hissed: 

“If  Clinton  Vale  is  in  the  parlor,  who  are  you?” 

“If  I am  Clinton  Vale,  who  is  in  the  parlor?  you 
had  better  put  it!  Somebody  has  imposed  upon  Mrs. 
Storms— the  detective,  maybe.” 

“Well,  we’ll  soon  see  which  is  the  impostor,”  panted 
the  desperate  woman,  as  she  made  a step  toward  the 
door 

In  an  instant  Nick’s  right  arm  was  around  her,  pin- 
ioning her  arms  to  her  sides  while  the  left  hand  clasped 


The  Plotters  at  Bay.  1 1 1 

the  chloroformed  sponge  tightly  over  her  mouth  and 
nostrils. 

She  struggled  with  the  desperation  of  the  murderess 
at  heart,  which  she  was;  but  she  remained  in  Nick’s 
grasp  as  if  held  by  bands  of  iron,  and  the  sponge  pre- 
vented her  from  making  an  outcry  which  could  be  heard 
beyond  the  confines  of  the  room. 

“Iam  sorry  to  bo  forced  to  such  an  act  of  ungal- 
lantry, madam:  but  realiy  you  compel  me  to  use  ex- 
traordinary measures  in  keeping  you  from  the  man  who 
is  your  worst  foe,”  said  Nick,  as  he  retained  his  ad- 
vantage. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  she  comprehended  his  words; 
for  her  muscles  began  to  relax  before  he  had  finished 
speaking,  and  in  a very  brief  time  she  lay  limp  and 
senseless  in  bis  arms. 

Raising  her  he  groped  his  way  across  the  room  to 
where  he  remembered  the  sofa  stood,  and,  having  found 
it,  ho  laid  her  on  it. 

H s next  act  was  to  tear  down  a heavy  lace  curtain 
from  the  nearest  window,  tear  it  into  strips,  and  bind 
her  hands  and  feet  most  securely.  Then  he  improvised 
a gag  and  placed  it  beyond  her  power  to  make  an  out- 
cry when  she  should  revive. 

Feeling  sure  that  Mrs.  Drexel  was  safely  disposed  of 
for  several  hours,  or  until  he  should  want  her  again, 
Nick  went  to  the  door,  unlocked  it,  and  quietly  opened 
it. 

A glance  into  the  hall  assured  him  that  the  coast  was 
clear.  He  left  the  room,  closed  and  locked  the  door, 
pat  the  key  into  his  pocket,  and  succeeded  in  reaching 
h’s  room  without  being  seen.  Once  behind  his  own 
d;or  ho  was  not  long  in  ridding  himself  of  his  made-up 
rese::  hlance  to  the  man  downstairs  in  the  parlor,  with 
who*,  he  was  determined  to  make  a deal  right  away* 


ii2  The  Plotters  at  Bay.  j 

He  then  resumed  the  character  and  dress  of  the  Broad 
Street  lawyer. 

Satisfied  that  the  change  was  all  right,  he  descended  j 
the  stairs  and  entered  the  parlor  without  knocking.  ^ 

Yale  and  Mrs.  Storms  were  there;  and  Nick,  by  his  j 
sudden  entrance,  surprised  them  with  their  heads  close 
together,  rapidly  conversing  in  whispers. 

As  soon  as  his  presence  was  detected,  the  two  plotters  j 
showed  signs  of  confusion;  and  by  their  acts  made 
efforts  to  convince  Nick  that  their  nearness  to  each 

j 

other  was  wholly  accidental. 

“I  am  sorry  to  intrude  so  inopportunely,”  smiled 
Nick;  “but  my  business  with  you  both  is  pressing,  and 
that  explanation  must  be  my  excuse.  It  is  very  for- , 
innate  that  I find  you  together.” 

“What  business  have  you  with  me,  sir,  that  needs 
attention  at  such  a time  as  this?”  blustered  Vale. 

“My  business  with  you,  particularly  at  this  time,  is  j 
one  of  life  and — death.  Pray  sit-down,  sir,  and  you, 
too,  Mrs.  Storms.  What  I am  going  to  say  may  tax 
the  strength  of  you  both.” 

“I  decline  to  sit  down,  or  to  even  remain  in  your 
presence,  Mr.  Vernon — or  whoever  you  are,”  said  Vale, 
turning  to  leave  the  room. 

“Stop!” 

The  words  rang  out  so  clearly  and  impressively  that 
Vale’s  steps  were  stayed  as  if  by  bonds. 

When  he  once  more  turned  his  eyes  toward  Nick,  he 
saw  a very  ugly  looking  pistol  in  the  latter’s  .right  hand 
which  caused  the  scoundrel  to  look  .pale,  and  Mrs. 
Storms  to  stifle  a scream. 

“You  have  called  me  ‘Vernon,  or  whoever  you  are.’ 
It  is  not  my  desire  to  keep  you  further  in  a state  of  un- 
certainty as  to  my  identity.  You  already  suspect  that 
my  name  is  not  Vernon,  and  that  X am  no  lawyer.* 


The  Plotters  at  Bay.  1 1 3 

You  are  right.  I am  a detective  sent  here  by  Superin- 
tendent Byrnes  of  New  York,  and  my  name  is  Nick 
Carter,  at  your  service. 5 ’ 

At  mention  of  his  foe’s  profession  Vale’s  sallow 
cheeks  grew  in  ghastliness.  But  when  he  heard  that 
name,  familiar  and  terrible  to  all  criminals,  the  rascal 
could  not  suppress  a cry  of  fear. 

“Now  will  you  both  sit  down  in  those  two  chairs  by 
the  table,  or  will  it  be  necessary  for  me  to  find  you 
places  at  full  length  upon  the  carpet?” 

Mrs.  Storms  lost  no  time  in  sinking,  limp  with  ter- 
ror, into  the  nearer  of  the  two  chairs  indicated.  Vale 
was  more  deliberate;  but  he,  too,  acted  the  better  part, 
of  valor. 

Nick  remained  standing  where  he  could  readily  com- 
mand a sight  of  both,  as  they  sat  midway  between  the 
door  and  the  windows. 

*T  have  a few  questions  to  ask,  but,  before  I proceed 
to  business,  some  preliminaries  are  necessary.  Mrs. 
Storms,  will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  touch  the  button  of 
theelectric  bell  which  you  will  find  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  room;  and  don’t  fail  to  return  at  once  to  your 
seat  if  you  dread  the  sensation  made  by  a pistol  ball 
tearing  its  way  through  the  flesh.” 

Mrs.  Storms  obeyed  with  all  the  alacrity  her  feeble 
strength  would  permit. 

In  a few  moments  Ida,  alias  Katrine,  appeared  in  the 
doorway  in  answer  to  the  call.  With  a smile  Nick 
addressed  her  in  English  and  said : 

“Ida,  please  ask  Miss  Meredith  to  step  in  here.  You 
may  return  with  her.” 

As  soon  as  Ida  was  gone,  Nick  turned  to  the  aston- 
ished plotters  and  remarked,  in  his  most  fascinating 
style  of  speech : 

“You  see  Katrine  has  learned  English  very  rapidly. 


. - . • - . 

■ ^ ..,  '.  .,  . . , .-  , ! < i ,n  , 

‘.  •-*  V ' ‘ ' • - ■ • ' II 

1 14  The  Plotters  at  Bay. 

She  has  also  changed  her  name.  Katrine  is  one  «,f  my 
very  valuable  aids.” 

A slight  noise  at-  the  door  caused  Nick  to  shoot  a 
quick  glance  thither,  only  for  an  instant.  Then ] his 
eyes  were  riveted  once  more  on  Yale  and  Mrs.  Storms, 
while  he  added : 

“And  there  is  another  of  them.  Karl  Koenig,  you 
may  come  in  and  tell  us  how  your  garden  grows  and 

where  you  have  been  since  daylight.”  , : 

Chick  walked  across  to  Nick’s  side  and  whispered 
rapidly  into  the  latter’s  ear  for  several  minutes. 

Not  a muscle  of  the  great  detective’s  fade  moved  to 
indicate  pleasure  or  disappointment  at  wbat  he  was 
hearing.  When  Chick  finished  his  undertone  message, 
his  chief  said : 

“Well,  for  the  present,  Herr  Koenig,  you  may  take 
a seat  by  that  door  over  there  and  see  that  no  one  leaves  1 

m - '! 

the  room  by  that  way  until  I have  done  with  them.” 
Chick  silently  took  up  his  designated  station  just  as 
Dolly  Meredith  came  in,  followed  by  Ida.  The  latter 
shot  Chick  a quick,  questioning  look  and  then  turned 

* 

her  eyes  to  Nick.^. 

“You  might  stand  over  yonder  near  the  veranda  win- 
dows , Miss  Ida,  and  persuade  any  one  who  might  be 
so  disobliging  as  to  desire  to  deprive  us  of  his  or  her 
company  to  remain.  I v ish  to  mention  in  this  connec- 
tion that  Mrs.  Drexel’s  new  maid  is  the  b3st  pistol  shot 
among  all  the  women  of  the  State  of  New  York.  She 
has  in  easy  reach  of  her  right  hand  a lovely  derringer.’* 
Then  Nick  placed  a chair  for  Miss  Meredith  where 
he  stood,  and  facing  the  now  thoroughly  terror-stricjken 
pair.  - ■;r-; 

“We  are  now  ready  for  the  business  before  118,”  be- 
gan Nick.  “Miss  Meredith,  X have  called  you  here  as 
the  nearest  approach  to  kin  of  the  murdered  ^master  of 


”5 


The  Plotters  at  Bav. 

«/ 

Maplewood,  to  hear  some  strange  and  startling  truths, 
I am  going  to  ask  this  gracious  couple  a few  questions, 
and  what  they  cannot,  or  will  not  answer,  perhaps  you 
or  I can.” 

“I  am  not  his  nearest  kin,  sir.  Where  is  Mrs. 
Drexel?”  inquired  Dolly,  looking  at  Nick  in  perplexity. 

“Mrs.  Drexel,  at  this  time,  is  indisposed.  She  has 
lain  down  and  gone  to  sleep. 

“To  sleep!” 

It  was  Mrs.  Storms  who  made  the  exclamation, 

Nick  bowed  and  responded : 

“To  sleep.  In  fact,  Mrs.  Drexel  is  completely  over' 
come  by  the  excitement  of  the  last  few  days.” 

“Let  us  have  done  with  this  flummery,”  snarled 
Vale.  “What  is  your  business  with  me?” 

“First  to  have  you  tell  us  how  Mr.  Drexel  died.” 
“He  was  murdered.  « I supposed  you  knew  that 
much.” 

“Certainly.  But  who  killed  him?” 

“The  man  whose  knife  is  still  sticking  in  the  body 
and  whose  purse  was  found  at  the  side  of  the  bed.” 
“Oh!  And  whose  knife  and  purse  are  they?” 

“H  is  nephew’s,  Frank  Willoughby.  His  name  is 
engraved  on  the  knife  handle;  his  card  is  in  the  purse.” 
“How  do  you  know?  You  have  not  been  in  the 
room.” 

“Mrs.  Storms  told  me,”  was  the  reply,  after  a 
moment’s  hesitation. 

At  random  Nick  quickly  exclaimed: 

“The  pocketbook  has  not  yet  been  opened.  How 
did  you  know  it  contains  his  card?” 

The  shot  told.  In  his  confusion  Vale  opened  his  lips, 
but  no  sound  came  therefrom. 

All  this  time  Miss  Meredith  sat  so  still  and  looked  so 
pale  that  Nick  was  fearful  she  would  faint.  He  there- 
fore hastened  to  relieve  her  mind  on  one  point. 


1 1 6 The  Plotters  at  Bay. 

\ 

“Mr.  Vale,  you  have  let  the  world  around  Maple- 
wood believe  that  you  were  deeply  in  love  with  Miss 
Meredith.  Why  did  you  so  dissemble?”. 

“Perhaps  Miss  Meredith  herself  had  better  answer 
you,”  was  the  reply  after  a slight  hesitation. 

Dolly  uttered  a low  moan. 

“Forgive  me,  Miss  Meredith,  if  Igive  you  temporary 
pain;  but  I am  going  to  deliver  you  from  the  power  of 
the  greatest  scoundrel  unhanged.” 

“Be  careful  what  you  say,”  shouted  Vale.  “I  am 
not  her  lover,  but  her  brother.” 

“ That  is  a lief ” sang  out  a voice  in  the  doorway. 

Every  eye  in  the  room  was  turned  that  way,  save 
Nick’s. 

Martin  Maloney  stood  there,  defiance  flashing  from 
his  handsome  face  as  he  shook  his  fist  at  Vale. 

“Probably  you  can  prove  it  to  be  a lie,”  growled  the 

latter. 

“lean.”  * 

He  stepped  briskly  across  the  room  till  he  stood  besides 
Dolly  ’s  chair.  She  fixed  her  eyes  on  him  as  if  fasci- 
nated. 

Maybe  she  had  a slight  idea  of  what  was  coming. 

“I  have  the  best  proof  in  the  world  of  your  deception, , 
George  Gordon,  Clyde  Van  Dyke,  or  Clinton  Vale, 
whatever  you  may  like  to  be  called  ; for  I am  Clifford  1 
Meredith  and  this  young  lady’s  fugitive  brother.” 


Final  Scenes. 


117 

* 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

FINAL  SCENES  IN  THE  MAPLEWOOD  TRAGEDY. 

The  words  spoken  by  the  counterfeit  coachman  and 
hostler  greatly  affected  three  of  those  collected  in  the. 
room.  , - 

x Dolly  Meredith,  as  if  suddenly  diverted  from  some 
horrible  spell,  uttered  a cry  of  joy  and  threw  herself 
into  the  arms  of  her  long-lost  brother,  which  were  open 
to  receive  her. 

Mrs.  Storms  sprang  to  her  feet,  gasping  for  breath, 
while  her  eyes  shifted  from  young  Meredith  to  Yale.  .... 

Yale  himself  sat  still,  showing  no  additional  signs  of 
discomfiture,  save  that  he  possibly  turned  a shade  whiter. 

He  could „ not,  however,  resist  the  impulse  to  speak, 
and  force  himself  still  deeper  into  the  net  which  was 
slowly  but  surely  insnaring  him. 

“Well,  if  you  are  Clifford  Meredith,  I believe  there 
is  a warrant  out  for  your  arrest  on  an  indictment  for 
the  murder  of  your  employer  some  years  ago.” 

Meredith  was  about  to  speak  when  Nick  interrupted 
him  by  raising  his  hand  and  taking  up  the  subject  him- 
self. - , 

“That  indictment  has  /made  adPinnocent  outlaw  of 
Clifford  Meredith  since  he  was  a mere  boy.  It  no 
longer  has  any  terrors  for  him.  By  the  blunder  of 
Mrs.  Drexel,  who  wrote  out  all  she  heard  yesterday 
from  your  former  wife,  and  then  lost  the  manuscript, 
Mr,  Meredith  knows  his  deliverance  is  at  hand,” 


1 1 8 Final  Scenes. 

Meredith  gave  Nick  a sharp  look,  which  the  detective 
answered  with  words : 

“I  also  had  the  pleasure  of  perusing  that  history, 
and,  with  him,  know  who  it  was  that  fired  the  fatal 
shot  which  made  a wanderer  of  him  for  so  many  years.” 

“Oh,  you  do?  Well,  who  is  he?”  came, the  bravado 
taunt  from  the  desperate  man. 

“His  name  is  George  Gordon,  alias  Clyde  Van  Dyke, 
the  forger,  alias  Clinton  Vale,  the  murderer  of  Gideon 

Drexel.”  - . 

Mrs.  Storms  uttered  a piercing  scream  and  fell  faint- 
ing upon  Vale’s  shoulder.  He  threw  her  off  with  an 
unfeeling  push,  and  she  dropped  senseless  upon  the 
floor. 


Vale’s  expression  of  features  was  that  of  a wild  beast 
at  bay. 

“A  very  pretty  theory,”  he  said,  with  a voice  which 
for  the  first  time  was  unsteady.  “Probably  you  can 
prove  all  that  easily  enough.” 

“Readily.  First,  we’ll  take  up  George  Gordon’s 
case.  He  was  a fellow  clerk  with  Clifford  Meredith 
when  the  latter  had  his  quarrel  with  their  mutual  em- 
ployer. Young  Meredith  and  the  victim  were  alon 
together  in  the  latter’s  office.  Clifford  was  heard  t 
make  a deadly  threat  against  the  latter.  Immediatel 
a pistol  shot  was  fired.  Other  clerks  rushed  in.  Th 
merchant  was  dead— shot  through  the  heart,  and  a 
pistol,  with  one  chamber  empty,  lay  at  Meredith’s  feet. 

“The  boy  knew  be  was  innocent;  but  there  was  n 
one  to  bear  witness  and  save  him.  He  had  not  seen 
the  person  who  fired  the  shot,  and  then  threw  the  pistol 
on  the  soft  carpet  at  his  feet.  The  evidence  of  his  guilt 
was  overwhelming.  Realizing  this,  he  took  an  advan- 
tage offered  for  escape,  and  went  to  sea  and  waited  all 
these  years  for  the  mystery  to  be  cleared  up. 


Final  Scenes. 


119 


“Where  he  has  been  I do  not  know;  but  from  some 
work  I saw  him  do  last  night,  I think  he  has  learned 
my  business  in  some  part  of  the  world.” 

Meredith  showed  by  his  look  that  he  knew  what  work 
Nick  referred  it.  He  nodded  his  head,  and  merely  re- 
plied : 

“In  London.” 

Nick  then  continued  : 

“That  murderous  shot  was  fired  by  George  Gordon, 
his  sworn  and  bitter  foe  and  fellow  clerk.-  The  deadly 
plot  was  well  executed.  Gordon  at  first  believed  his 
crime  was  unknown  by  any  one.  But  he  soon  discovered 
that  another  shared  his  secret  with  him. 

“Kate  Connor,  a girl  of  his  own  age,  who  madly 
loved  him,  had  seen  him  fire  the  shot.  To  quiet  her 
tongue  he  made  love  to  her,  and  a few  years  later  mar- 
ried her. 

“Gordon’s^mother  was  a professional  nurse.  About 
one  year  after  his  marriage  this  woman,  who  by  a 
second  marriage  bore  the  name  of  Storms,  was  called 
in  to  attend  Gideon  Drexel’s  wife  in  childbirth. 
Drexel  was  away  from  home  at  the  time.  Three  hours 
after  its  birth  the  child — an  apparently  healthy  girl — 
died. 

“On  the  life  of  this  child  Mrs.  Drexel’s  hope  of  com 
trolling  all  of  her  husband’s  millions  had  centered.  Its 
death  was  a great  blow  to  her  scheme.  She  took  Mrs. 
Storms  into  her  confidence,  and  between  the  two  a plot  - 
was  formed  and  carried  out  to  deceive  Drexel. 

“The  wife  of  the  son  of  Mrs.  Storms  had  also  taken 
up  the  profession  of  a nurse,  and  the  day  previous  was 
called  to  attend  a young  mother  in  another  part  of  the 
city.  In  this  instance  the  moijer  died,  but  the  child 
survived. 

“It  was  : >t  a hard  task  for  these  two  women  to  ex- 


120 


Final  Scenes. 


change  the  living  babe  for  the  dead,  without  any  one 
but  themselves  and  Mrs.  Drexel  knowing,  of  the  deceit. 

“So  the  child  of  an  almost  unknown  woman  was 
palmed  off  upon  Gideon  Drexel  as  his  daughter  and 
heiress  by  birth  and  blood. 

V. 

“Soon  afterwTard  Gordon,  under  the  name  of  Clyde 
Van  Dyke,  committed  a daring  forgery;  and  I was 
given  the  task  of  working  up  the  case.  Just  as  I 
located  my  man,  he  gave  me  the  slip.  I never  saw  him 
again  till  I met  Clifford  Vale  a few  days-ago.” 

Vale  sat  like  a statue,  but  made  no  move,  and  gave 
no  sign  of  a desire  to  interrupt  the  detective. 

“Several  years  later  he  met  Mrs.  Drexel  and  fell  in 
love  with  her.  This  incident  gave  his  mother  a chance 
tp  make  a play  with  her  secret  for  great  wealth. 

“Her  plot  was  to  marry  her  son  to  Mrs.  Drexel. 

“But  Mrs.  Drexel’s  husband  and  her  son’s  wife  must 
first  be  got  out  of  the  way. 

“She  took  young  Gordon  into  her  confidence,  and 
found  in  him  a ready  ally. 

“The  first  part  of  the  daring  scheme  was  aimed  at 
the  life  of  his  wife,  who  was  the  only  living  person,  ex- 
cept Mrs.  Drexel,  who  shared  their  secret  of  the  false 
heiress. 

“So  they  gave  her  a deadly  drug.  She  apparently 
died  and  was  buried. 

“By  a miracle  she  was  restored  to  life.  Her  body 
was  disinterred  for  the  dissecting  table.  The  operators 
found  signs  of  life;  and  revived  her. 

“Mrs.  Kate  Connor  Gordon  is  now  alive  and  within 
easy  call.  Her  testimony  on  several  points  will  be 
most  interesting  and  valuable.” 

Mrs.  Storms  had  recovered  consciousness  in  time  to 
r ear  Nick’s  last  words,  and  now  she  lay  groveling  and 
groaning  at  her  son’s  feet*  ; ; 


V 


Final  Scenes. 


I 2 I 


“A  very  nice  romance,”  once  more  sneered  Yale, 
keeping  up  his  bravado  to  the  last.  “Now  what  a 
climax  it  would  be  for  you  to  produce  this  resurrected 
witness  in  propria  per sonce.” 

“Not  while  you  are  near  enough  to  try  to  do  her 
harm,  for  that  would  force  me  to  dispose  of  you  before 
your  time  had  come. ’ 5 

“On  which  of  these  charges  am  I to  be  arrested  first?” 
“Well,  I think  it  will  be  on  the  charge  of  having 
murdered  Gideon  Drexel.” 

“Your  testimony  in  that  case  will  be  rather  weak,  I 
think.” 

“Not  after  we  shall  have  produced  the  testimony  of 
a witness  who  saw  you  come  out  of  the  fatal  room  just 
after  the  deed  was  done.” 

“Who?” 

It  was  ail  his  parched,  trembling  lips  could  utter. 
At  last  his  supreme  nerve  was  giving  way. 

“My  young  lady  assistant  over  there  by  the  windows  ” 
Ida  gave  a neat  courtesy  as  a confirmation  of  Nick’s 
statement.  Wale  leaned  heavily  on  the  table,  and 
seemed  to  be  laboring  for  breath. 

“The  only  mystery  to  me  is  how  you  got  possession 
of  Willoughby’s  pocketbook  and  knife.” 

“lean  answer  that,”  came  a voice  from  the  door- 
way, and  Frank  Willoughby  strode  into  the  room.  “I 
went  to  the  cascade  an  hour  before  the  time  set  to  meet 
you  there  this  morning,  and,  lying  down  on  the  plateau, 
I fell  asleep.  While  I slept  I was  robbed  of  knife  and 
purse.  They  must  have  fallen  from  my  pocket,  and 
some  one  passing  picked  them  up.” 

A fearful  interruption  followed. 

The  sharp  report  of  a pistol  rang  through  the  room 
and  Vale  fell  forward  on  the  table— dead,  with  a 
bullet  hole  in  his  forehead. 


y 

122  Final  Scenes. 

A.  second  shot  followed  the  first  almost  immediately, 
and  the  sound  of  a falling  body  in  the  hall  was  heard 
by  the  startled  people  in  the  parlor. 

Chick  was  the  first  to  rush  from  the  room. 

He  found  Mrs.  Drexel  lying  just  outside  the  door. 
She  was  dying  with  a pistol  ball  in  her  heart,  and  the 
fatal  pistol  still  grasped  in  her  hands. 

The  desperate  woman  had  managed  to  break  her 
bonds;  she  secured  a pistol,  and  w'ent  to  find  Nick,  bent 
upon  revenge,  as  the  last  act  of  her  life. 

The  shot  which  killed  hpr  confederate  had  un- 
doubtedly been  aimed  at  Nick,  who  stood  almost  in  a 
direct  line  between  Yale  and  the  door. 

Her  aim  was  unsteady,  and  a Divine  Providence  sped 
the  bullet  on  its  fatal  course. 

• • • V • • a 

Little  more  remains  to  be  told.  Mrs.  Gordon’s  testi- 
mony was  most  valuable  in  settling  the  estate  of  Gideon 
Drexel. 

From  her  disclosures  it  was  learned  that  the  woman 
whose  baby  she  gave  to  Mrs.  Storms  to  replace  Mrs. 
Drexel’ s dead  infant  was  the  wife  of  Frank  "Wil- 
loughby. It  therefore  followed  that  the  little  girl 
known  as  Daisy  Drexel  was  the  daughter  of  Gideon 
Drexel ’s  nephew  and  heir  at- law. 

Thus,  after  all,  little  Daisy  inherited  through  her 
father  all  of  Gideon  Drexel’s  millions. 

She  was  soon  restored  to  her  wronged  father.  The 
addresses  found  on  the  card  in  Mrs.  Drexel’s  porte- 
monnaie  were  respectively  memoranda  of  Mrs.  Gor- 
don’s home  in  the  city  and  of  the  place  where  Yale  had 
put  Daisy  in  hiding. 

With  these  addresses  in  bis  possession,  Meredith  had 
taken  the  four-o’clock  train  to  the  city  that  morning.  . 
Chick  shadowed  him.  The  two  came  together  on  the 


Final  Scenes, 


123 


train.  Before  they  got  to  New  York  they  had  reached 
a perfect  understanding  and  were  ready  to  work  together. 

They  found  Mrs.  Gordon,  and  also  little  Daisy. 
With  the  little  girl  in  their  possession  they  returned  to 
Maplewood. 

Dolly  Meredith  is  now  Mrs.  Frank  Willoughby. 
The  happy  couple  live  together  at  Maplewood,  and  with 
them  lives  the  little  girl  whose  abduction  put  into  Nick 
Carter’s  hands  one  of  the  strangest  cases  of  his  profes- 
sional experience. 

Nick  restored  to  Dolly  the  one  thousand  dollars  which 
she  had  taken  from  her  stepfather’s  private  drawer  in 
order  to  place  her  supposed  brother  out  of  the  reach  of 
danger.  No  one  else,  not  even  her  husband,  ever  knew 
that  she  had  been  tempted  by  sisterly  love  to  commit 
the  crime. 

Clifford  Meredith’s  roving  habits  had  become  set. 
and  he  remained  at  Maplewood  only  long  enough  to  see 
his  sister  married.  He  promised,  however,  to  return 
and  visit  them  frequently. 

Mrs.  Storms  never  recovered  from  the  shock  she  re- 
ceived on  that  day  of  terror.  Before  the  sun  set  she  had 
joined  her  wicked  son  in  another  world. 

And  so,  after  all,  Gideon  Drexel’s  millions  will  go  to 
the  person  on  earth  he  loved  most— little  Daisy. 


THE  E ND. 


_• 


. 

• ' ' 


V 


— . 


A LUCKY  YOUNG  MAN. 


A LUCKY  YOUNG  MAN. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A FINE  OPENING  FOR  A YOUNG  MAN, 

- _ y 

The  big  Atlantic  liner,  Normanic,  sailed  for  England 
<ju  Saturday,  and  returned  to  New  York  the  following 
Wednesday. 

She  had  met  a three-masted  schooner  in  a fog,  with 
a result  absolutely  destructive  to  the  schooner  and 
sufficiently  serious  to  the  steamer  to  induce  her  prudent 
commander  to  return  to  port. 

The  schooner’s  crew  had  been  saved,  by  a miracle,  it 
would'  appear,  for  their  vessel  had  been  cut  into  two 
pieces,  which  drifted  apart  and  sank  separately. 

The  facts  were  reported  meagerly  from  Quarantine 
when  the  Normanic  reached  that  point.  The  news- 
papers saw  a good  story  in  it,  and  when  the  steamer 
pulled  into  her  berth,  there  were  a dozen  or  more  report- 
ers on  the  pier. 

The  rescued  sailors  were  subjected  to  the  interviewing 
process,  and  many  of  the  steamer’s  passengers  endured 
a similar  infliction. 

One  of  these  was  Jdr.  Duncan  Hartwell,  a young  man 
from  Indianapolis. 

One  of  the  reporters  discovered  that  he  had  been  on 
deck  at  the  time  of  the  collision,  and  that  he  claimed  to 
have  seen  the  schooner’s  lights  before  they  were  re- 
ported by  the  steamer’s  lookout. 

Naturally,  the  reporter  thought  that  he  had  found  a 


0 


|j 

128  An  Opening  for  a Young  Man. 

9 

prize;  and  he  quickly  separated  Mr.  Hartwell  from  the 
other  passengers,  and  took  him  into  a retired  spot  on  the 
pier,  where  the  story  could  he  told  without  danger  that 
the  other  reporters  would  overhear  it. 

“I  was  going  abroad,”  said  Mr.  Hartwell,' with  evi- 
dent  pride,  “to  be  general  manager  oLthe  English 
branch  of  the  Lawrence  Bicycle  Manufacturing  Com- 
pany. . 

“I  had  just  been  engaged  to  fill  that  position.  And 
that  reminds  me  that  I ought  to  cable  the  news  of  this 
accident  to  the  office  on  the  other  side.  Come  up  to  the 
cable  office  with  me,  and  I’ll  tell  you  the  story  as  we 
go  along.” 

The  reporter  didn  ’t  want  to  lose  time,  so  he  attempted! 
to  dissuade  Mr.  Hartwell  from  this  purpose. 

“I  shouldn’t  think  that  would  be  necessary, ” he  said., 
“They’ll  learn  about  it  in  the  papers  to-morrow.” 

“But  I must  tell  them  that  I’m  to  take  the  Jurassict 
to-morrow.  You  see,  it’s  very  important  that  I should! 
get  over  there  as  soon  as  possible,  and  they  must  also 
know  when  to  expect  me. 

“The  Jurassic  sails  early  tor  morrow,  and  if  I get  this 
cable  business  off  my  hands  this  evening,  I can  go 
aboard  of'  her  and  have  a good  night’s  rest.  Come 
along  if  you  want  to  hear  the  story.” 

The  reporter  had  nearly  finished  his  work  on  the 
pier,  and  he  decided  to  go  with  Mr.  Hartwell  rather 
than  lose  his  story. 

They  went  to  the  cable  office,  and  the  reporter  got  his 
facts  by  the  way.  * Hartwell  wrote  out  his  message, 
and  gave  it  to  the  clerk  at  the  window. 

“Are-  you  sure  about  this  address?”  asked  the  clerk. 

Hartwell  referred  to  a memorandum  book. 

“Perfectly  certain,”  he  said.  “It  was  given  to  me 
by  the  American  manager  of  the  concern.  ” 


129 


An  Opening  for  a Young  Man. 

‘ 4 That’s  curious,  ’ ’ said  the  clerk.  ‘ ‘ I happen  to  know 
:hat  part  of  London  pretty  well;  and  I’m  perfectly  dead 
certain  that  this  address  is  the  King  George’s  Hospital 
for  Imbeciles.  ” 

Hartwell  got  red  in  the  face. 

4 4 Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  m^  company  has  offices 
in  an  idiot  asylum?”  he  demanded. 

The  clerk  had  been  consulting  a large  book.  Instead 
of  answering  by  words,  he  pushed  this  volume  through 
the  window. 

Hartwell’s  eyes  lit  upon  a list  of  the  pubtic  buildings 
and  institutions  of  London,  and  there  stood  the  chari- 
table retreat  for  imbeciles  in  the  place  where  the  English 
branch  of  the  Lawrence  Bicycle  Company  ought  to  be. 

“ Don’t  you  think  you’ve  made  a mistake?”  mildly 
suggested  the  clerk. 

“This  book  must  be  wrong,”  exclaimed  Hartwell. 

“It  isn’t  wrong.  I tell  you  that  I know  that  locality 
as  well  as  I know  the  inside  of  this  office.  Of  course  I 
can  send  this  message  if  you  want  me  to  do  so;  but  it’s 
my  duty  to  tell  you  that  the  address  is  an  error.” 

“Why,  I showed  this  to  the  manager  himself.  He 
said  it  was  right.” 

“Where  are  the  company’s  offices  in  this  country?” 

“They’re  in  Boston.  I have  that  address  also.” 

“Telegraph  to  Boston  for  the  correct  cable  address.” 

Hartwell  thought  it  over  a few  minutes  and  then  de- 
cided to  follow  this  sensible  advice. 

He  wrote  a message  and  presented  it  at  another  win- 
dow. 

“Deliver  to-morrow  morning,  I suppose?”  said  the 
second  clerk. 

“No;  to-night.  They  have  a man  in  the  office  until 
ten  o’clock  in  the  evening.  When  can  I get  an 
answer?” 


for  a Young  Man. 

“In  an  hour,  or  a little  more.” 

“Very  well;  I’ll  come  back  at  the  end  of  that  time.” 
Hartwell  returned  promptly  and  asked  for  his  reply. 
“There’s  no  such  concern  at  that  address,”  said'  the 
clerk,  “and  our  Boston  office  can  find  no  trace  of  it. 
The  Boston  directory  doesn’t  give  it;  it  isn’t  in  Brad- 
street:  and,  in  short,  we  can’t  locate  it.” 

During  the  latter  part  of  this  remark,  Hartwell  was* 
aware  that  the  clerk  was  exchanging  glances  with 
somebody,  and,  turning,  Hartwell  confronted  a vener- 
able old  man  with  gold-rimmed  glasses  and  a gray 

heard.  v 

“Johnny,”  said  this  gentleman,  in  a- low  voice,  to  the 
clerk,  “I  wish  you’d  introduce  me  to  Mr.  Hartwell.” 
The  clerk  opened  the  metal  grating  of  his  window, 
and  put  his  head  out  so  that  be  could  speak  in  a lowenl 

tone.  ' 

“He  is  Nick  Carter,”  he  whispered.  “He  wants  to 
speak  to  you  about  this  affair.” 

The  venerable  person  removed  his  glasses,  revealing 
a pair  of  youthful  and  exceedingly  bright  eyes. 

“I  was  here  an  hour  ago,  Mr.  Hartwell,”  he  said, 
“when  you  were  trying  to  send  your  cable  message.  I' 
thought  then  that  you  were  the  victim  of  a swindle, 
and  now  I’m  sure  of  it.  Did  you  pay  anything  to 
secure  a position  with  that  company?” 

“Did  I pay  anything?”  exclaimed  Hartwell,  whose* 
manner  showed  that  the  great  detective’s  name  was: 
known  to  him.  “I  should  say  I didn’t.  If  it’s  a 
swindle,  I should  like  to  be  swindled  some  more.  I’m 
over  three  hundred  dollars  ahead  of  this  game,  Mr. 
Carter.  No,  sir;  little  Duncan  Hartwell  is  too  smart 

to  be  taken  in.”  , 

“I’m  glad  to  hear  it,”  said  Nick,  smiling  at  Hart- 
well’s referee™  '"‘oiself,  for  the  young  fellow  was  as 


130  An  Opening 


An  Opening  for  a Young  Man.  13 1 

big  as  two  ordinary  men.  “But  the  case  seems  to  be 
quite  unusual,  and  as  I am  interested  in  such  cases  per- 
haps you’ll  gratify  my  curiosity  by  telling  me  about  it.” 

“I  don’t  mind,”  responded  Hartwell.  “I’ve  nothing 
to  be  ashamed  of.” 

Nick  waved  his  hand  to  the  clerk,  who  immediately  - 
opened  a door,  and  led  the  detective  and  Hartwell  into 
a private  office  unused  at  that  time  of  night. 

“Iteeems  to  me  that  I’ve  heard  your  name  before,” 
said  the  detective,  when  they  were  alone.  “Weren’t 
you  connected  with  a little  affair  in  a branch  bank  in  a 
suburb  of  Indianapolis?” 

“I  should  say  I was,”  replied  Hartwell.  “I  was  a 
clerk  there,  and  was  acting  as  paying  teller  one  day. 

It  was  a small  place,  and  there  was  only  one  other  man 
— the  cashier — there,  except  myself,  on  that  particular 
occasion. 

“It  was  just  noon  when  two  men  came  in,,  and  one  of 
them  walked  up  to  the  window,  as  if  to  present  a check, 

“But  instead  of  a check  he  presented  a revolver,  and 
demanded  all  the  money  in  the  place.  In  a flash  I 
looked  over  his  head  and  saw  that  his  pal  had  covered 
the  cashier,  having  knocked  a hole  in  a glass  partition, 
through  which  he  had  thrust  a revolver. 

“Well,  Mr.  Carter,  I heard  the  cashier  praying  for  his 
life,  and  offering  everything  on  earth  for  it  ; and  that 
made  me  sick.  I wouldn’t  be  such  as  whelp  as  that. 

“So  I told  my  man  to  go  to  the  middle  kitchen  of  blue 
blazes.  He  snapped  the  pistol.  There’s  the  cartridge. 

I carry  it  with  me  for  luck,  because  it  didn’t  go  off. 

“Before  he  could  shoot  again,  I reached  out  and  grab- 
bed him  by  the  wrist.  And  I pulled  him  right  in 
through  the  window;  I did,  by  Jingo!  though  it  was 
only  ten  by  twelve;  and  how  he  got  through  it  I’ve 
neve  ^ * i able  to  discover.  ; 

« ' • " 


“He  was  mighty  near  dead  when  I got  him  in  there; 
and  his  pal  was  so  affected  by  the  spectacle  that  he  shot 
off  his  revolver  at  random,  and  ran  for  his  life.” 

“Ihave  heard  of  this,”  said  Nick.  “It  was  a mighty 
fine  thing  to  do.  The  bank  should  have  rewarded  you.  ’ * 

Hartwell  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed. 

“They  advanced  my  pay  two  dollars  a week,  said 
he.  “I’d  been  getting  twelve  dollars  and  they  gave  me 
fourteen. 

“ Well,  that’s  all  over.  I didn’t  tell  you  this  story 
to  make  you  think  better  of  me,  but  because  it  has  a 
direct  bearing  on  the  case.  It  was  the  cause  of  my 
coming  to  New  York. 

“Ben  Hartwell,  of  Hartwell,  Roach  & Collins,  on 
Wall  Street,  is  my  uncle.  I’d  been  writing  to  himi 
frequently  for  two  years,  begging  him  to  get  me  some- 
thing to  do  in  New  York.  I Was  very  anxious  to  get 
into  a big  city. 

“When  he  heard  of  that  little  matter,  he  wrote  me 
that  I could  have  a position  in  his  office.  He  had 
never  given  me  any  encouragement  before. 

“But  what  do  you  suppose  he  offered  me?  Seventy- 
five  dollars  a month.  Only  a little  more  than  I was 
getting  out  there. 

4 4 And  it  was  a responsible  position  that  I was  to  hold. 
I would  have  been  an  assistant  cashier,  and  very  close  to 
the  eash — A kind  of  a watchdog  for  somebody  else,  I 
guess. 

4 4T  didn’t  like  it.  It  looked  mean.  I had  half  a mind 
to  decline  ; but  I thought  it  might  be  a stepping  stone 
to  something  better — not  with  my  uncle,  though.  After 
reading  bis  last  letter  I gave  up  all  hope  that  he  would 
ever  do  the  right  thing  by  me. 

4 4 1 accepted  the  job  and  started  East.  On  my  own 
money,  too;  he  didn’t  send  me  a cent  for  expenses 


m pj 

An  Opening  for  a Young*  Man.  133 

“Then  my  luck  turned.  I struck  the  finest  fellow  on 
the  train  that  ever  I met.  He  rode  with  me  all  the 
way  from  Indianapolis. 

“He  was  a big,  fine-looking,  hearty  chap,  not  much 
older  than  myself,  but  a man  who  had  already  made  a 
success  in  the  world. 

“I  was  feeling  mighty  bitter  and  blue — disappointed, 
you  know,  by  the  way  my  uncle  had  treated  me;  for 
I’d  always  thought  that  if  I could  convince  him  that  I 
was  good  for  anything,  my  fortune  would  be  made. 

“In  such  a mood,  I naturally  felt  like  confiding  in 
somebody,  and  my  new  acquaintance  was  just  the  man. 

“There  was  nothing  stingy  or  small  about  him. 
When  ,1  told  him  what  the  bank  people  and  my  uncle 
had  done,  he  struck  his  right  hand  into  his  left  with  a 
noise  like  a cannon,  and  swore  that  they  all  ought  to 
be  strung  up  to  one  another’s  heels. 

“ I was  his  friend  from  that  minute.  He  asked  me" 
ail  sorts  of  questions,  and  at  last  he  said : 

“ ‘Look  here,  Hartwell,  you  come  with  us.  (rive 
your  uncle  the  go-by.  You  don’t  want  to  be  a clerk 
all  your  life.' 

“ ‘Now  we’ll  offer  you  something  worth  while. 
You’re  just  the  man  we’ve  been  looking  for. 

“ ‘If  you’ll  make  the  right  kind  of  a contract  with 
us,  and  agree  to  take  the  first  steamer  that  sails  after 
you  reach  New  York,  I’ll  make  you  manager  of  our 
English  branch;  and  it’s  a mighty  good  place,  too.’ 

“He’d  already  told  me  about  the  Lawrence  Bicycle 
Company.  He  described  the  bicycle  that  they  make, 
and  it’s  a good  thing.  I know  about  bicycles,  and  the 
machine  that  he  described  lays  over  them  all. 

“Naturally  I was  anxious  to  be  associated  with 
something  like  that — an  assured  success.  But  I didn’t 
jump  too  quickly.  I made  a businesslike  contract. 


134  An  Opening  for  a Young  Main. 

“My  salary  was  to  be  four  thousand  a year,  and  1,1- 
was  to  have  a liberal  commission  on  sales  over  a certain 

!•  : • J 

limit.  Why,  Mr.  Carter,  it  was  a pudding.  I don’t  : 
want  anything  better. 

“I’d  like  to  show  you  the  contract  ; but  it’s  in  my 
grip,  which  has  been  transferred  to  the  Jurassic. 

“After  we  had  drawn  up  our  contract — which  was; 
done  on  the  train— he  asked  me  how  I was  fixed  for 
ready  money. 

“I  told  him  that  I certainly  hadn’t  enough  to  take 
me  to  Europe.  He  said  of  course  the  company  Would 
advance  me  enough  for  that.  Would  about  five  hun-j 
dred  dollars  suit  me?  Yes,  five  hundred  dollars  would 
suit  me  to  death.  I hadn’t  had  so  much  money  as  that 
at  any  one  time  in  my  life  before. 

“He  pulled  out  a big  envelope  which  contained  cob] 
lections  he  had  made  for  the  company.  I should  say 
that  there  were  more  than  ten  thousand  dollars  in  that 


“You  know  we  had  a private  compartment  in  a 
Pullman  car,  and  he  didn’t  mind  showing  it.  H© 
counted  out  five  one-hundred  dollar  bills  and  gave  them 
to  me,  taking  my  receipt.  I felt  that  I had  struck  a 
soft  snap— I was  a lucky  young  man. 

“ ‘Now,’  h©  said,  Svhat  are  you  going  to  do  about 
your  uncle?’ 

“ “Let  him  go  to  grass,’  said  I.  * After  I get  on  the 
other  side.  I’ll  writ©  him  all  about  it’ 

“But  he  showed  me  that  that  wasn’t  the  proper 
thing  to  do.  It  wasn’t  worthy  of  me,  he  said.  I 
should  write  to  my  uncle,  and  mail  it  in  New  York. 

“So  I sat  down  and  wrote  a long  letter.  It  was  a 
scorcher.  It  showed  Ben  Hartwell  just  how  mean  he 
he’d  acted  toward  me. 

“Whew  we  got  to  New  York,  Anderson  bustled  me 


An  Opening  for  a Young  Man.  135 

right  into  a cab.  He’s  a hummer,  I tell  you.  We 
caught  the  Normanic  by  about  fifteen  minutes. 

“He  bade  me  good-by  in  his  hearty  style,  and  hur- 
ried ashore  just  in  time.”  » 

“How  about  your  letter?”  asked  Nick. 

“Anderson  mailed  it  for  me.” 

“I  understand,  of  course,  that  Anderson  is  your  new 

friend.”  ? 

“Yes;  Albert  J.  Anderson  is  his  name.  Here’s  his 

card.” 

He  handed  Nick  a handsome  business  card,  on  which 
Mr.  Anderson  was  described  as  manager  of  the  bicycle 
business  with  its  factory  and  general  offices  located  in 

Boston. 

“Very  neat,”  muttered  Nick. 

“Yes,  it  is  a neat  card,  as  you  say;  I intend  to  have 
one  like  it.” 

“I  don’t  refer  to  the  card,  but  to  Mr.  Albert  J.  An- 
derson’s little  game.” 

Hartwell  rose  from  his  chair.  His  faee  looked  pale 
in  the  white  electric  light. 

“Look  here,  Mr.  Carter,”  he  said.  ' Don’t  tell  me 
that  there’s  fraud  here.  Of  course  there’s  something 
queer  in  that  matter  of  the  addresses,  but  how  can  the 
thing  be  a swindle?  Who’s  getting  anything  out  of  it? 

I’ve  got  my  money  in  cash.” 

“Is  there  anybody  whom  you  know  who  could  have 
any  motive  for  desiring  to  get  you  out  cf  the  country?  * 
“Nobody.  There’s  no  mystery  about  me.  I’m  just 
plain  Dune.  Hartwell,  from  the  Hoosier  State.” 

“Very  well;  then  we  will  consider  the  other  aspect 
of  the  affair.  Johnny !”  he  called  tothe  clerk  who  had 
shown  them  into  the  office,  “get  me  a city  directory. 
The  volume  was  brought. 

Nick  consulted  it  a moment*  Then  he  said  : 


136  An  Opening  for  a Young  Man. 

“Come  with  me.  You  don’t  object  to  a little  ride*  I 
suppose?” 

“No;  I’ll  go  anywhere  you  say.  Of  course  you  un- 
derstand, Mr.  Carter,  that  I wouldn’t  have  talked  this 
way  to  everybody.  But  you’re  a famous  man,  and 
have  the  reputation  of  being  very  helpful  to  anybody 
in  a difficulty.  X was  glad  to  have  the  privilege  of 
talking  with  you,  and  I hoped  that  you  would  be  able 
to  straighten  out  my  little  tangle  in  time  to  enable  me 
to  take  the  Jurassic  to-morrow.” 

“I’ll  do  my  best,”  said  Nick. 

They  got  into  a cab  and  were  conveyed  rapidly  up 
town. 

The  vehicle  stopped  before  the  door  of  a handsome 
residence. 

Nick  rang  the  bell,  and  to  the  servant  who  answered 
it  he  said : 

“Please  take  my  card  to  Mr.  Hartwell,  if  he  is  at 
home.”  \ 

“My  uncle’s  house!”  exclaimed  the  young  man  from 
the  Hoosier  State. 

“Certainly.” 

Before  Duncan  Hartwell  could  recover  from  his  as- 
- tonishment,  they  were  in  the  parlor,  and  old  Ben  Hart- 
well, the  banker,  stood  before  them. 

“Good-evening  Mr.  Carter,”  he  said.  “It  is 
some  years  since  I have  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
you.” 

“Yes,  sir,  it  is.  And  here  is  a young  man  whom,  I 
believe,  you  have  never  seen,  although  he  is  nearly 
related  to  you.  This  is  your  nephew,  Duncan  Hart- 
well.” 

The  banker  started. 

“What  does  this  mean,  Carter?”  he  said,  “Tbit 

* > 

isn’t  my  nephew,  and  you  know  it.”  _ 


137 


A Clever  Game  Blocked. 

\ I 


CHAPTER  II. 

A CLEVER  GAME  BLOCKED. 


“So  this  is  how  we  account  for  the  nigger  in  the 
woodpile,”  cried  Duncan  Hartwell.  “My  uncle  dis- 
owns me.  He  wants  to  get  me  out  of  the  country  and 
palm  off  somebody  else  for  me.  But  what’s  he  doing  it 
for?  I haven’t  got  anything  to  steal.” 

The  young  man’s  wrath  was  at  a white  heat.  Quick 
to  leap  to  conclusions,  he  thought  he  saw  his  uncle  at 
the  bottom  of  some  strange  plot  against  him. 

He  stepped  up  close  to  the  banker,  and  towered  above 
him  with  such  menace  that  Nick  hurriedly  interposed. 
If  Duncan  had  laid  one  of  .his  gigantic  hands  on  the 
wasted  form  of  the  banker  it  would  have  crushed  him. 

“I  have  excellent  reasons  for  believing  that  this 
young  man  is  really  your  nephew,”  said  Nick. 

“And  I have  much  better  reasons  for  believing  that 
he  isn’t,”  retorted  the  banker.  “I  saw  my  nephew  no 
longer  ago  than  five  o’clock  this  afternoon,  and  he  looks 
no  more  like  this  fellow  than  he  does  like  you.” 

“You  surprise  me,  sir.  May  I ask  where  you  saw 
your  nephew?” 

“In  my  office,  where  he  is  regularly  employed.” 

“He  has  been  there  since  Monday,  I believe?” 

“Yes;  how  did  you  know  that?” 

“I  inferred  it.  Now,  Mr.  Hartwell,  we  will  waste 
no  more  time.  It  is  necessary  for  us  to  act  instantly. 
Have  you  confidence  in  me?” 


“Why,  yes,  of  course,”  said  the  banker. 


“Yes,  in 


13 8 A Clever  Game  Blocked. 

deed;  I have  confidence  in  you,  Mr.  Carter;  but  if  I 
could  ask  a few  questions^ ” 

1 1 There  really  isn’t  time.  Get  on  your  hat  and  over^ 
coat  and  come  along.” 

Mr.  Hartwell,  with  a most  mystified  air,  complied 
with  Nick’s  request.. 

. “If  I didn’t  know  you  of  old,”  he  said,  as  he  ap- 
peared in  the  hall  again,  ready  to  go  out,  “I  wouldn’t 
let  you  lead  me  in  the  dark  like  this.” 

Thev  did  not  take  the  cab  this  time,  but  hurried 
toward  an  elevated  railroad  station  near  by. 

“This  is  the  quickest  way,”  said  Nick. 

There  was*  of  course,  no  opportunity  to  speak  confi- 
dentially in  the  train.  It  was  just  the  time  when  the 
theater  crowds  come  out,  and  the  cars  were  full  of 
people. 

Nick  would  answer  no  questions  relative  to  the  case. 

They  rode  to  Rector  Street ; and,  after  leaving  the 
train,  hurried  in  the  direction  of  the  offices  of  Hartwell, 
Roach  & Collins. 

These  were  not  on  Wall  Street,  but  close  by. 

As  the  three  men  approached  the  comer  of  the  street 
on  which  the  firm  had  its  place  of  business,  Nick  laid 
a hand  upon  each  of  his  companions  and  checked  them. 
“Let  me  go  ahead,”  he  said. 

He  advanced  to  the  corner,  and  peered  around  it. 

Then  he  stepped  back,  and  for  a moment  was  hidden 
in  the  shadow  of  a doorway. 

When  he  emerged,  the  others  could  hardly  believe 
their  eyes. 

The  venerable  old  man  had  vanished,  and  a seedy- 
looking  individual  in  a battered  hat  had  taken  his 
place. 

He  appeared  to  be  considerably  under  the  influence 
of  liquor  and  the  smell  of  it  clung  round  b;  ^ 


A Clever  Game  Blocked.  139 

Nick  always  carries  a bottle  of  whisky,  but  not  for 
internal  use.  A little  on  the  clothing  will  supplement 
a counterfeit  presentment  of  intoxication. 

u Wait  here,”  he  whispered. 

The  next  moment  he  staggered  around  the  corner. 

The  curiosity  of  the  two  men  overpowered  them. 

They  could  not  stand  there  on  the  deserted  streets  un- 
conscious of  the  strange  drama  that  might  be  enacted 
so  near  them. 

The  conduct  of  the  detective  plainly  showed  that  he 
had  business  of  importance  in  that  quiet  street,  fringed 
by  its  tall,  dark  buildings  wherein  so  many  millions  of 
money  lay  in  vaults  and  safes. 

First  the  impatience  of  the  banker  overcame  him. 

He  advanced  to  the  corner  and  peered  around. 

“If  he’s  going  to  disobey  orders  I might  as  well  do 
the  same,”  muttered  Duncan;  and  he,  too,  advanced. 

They  saw  Nick  only  a few  paces  up  the  street. 

He  was  clinging  to  an  iron  railing  and  seemed  in- 
capable of  going  farther. 

A little  way  beyond  him  stood  a dark  figure  near  the 
wall  of  a great  building — that  in  which  the  banker’s 
offices  were  located. 

Duncan  could  see  the  massive  bars  on  the  lower  win- 
dows, guarding  the  treasure  which  had  been  confided 
to  his  uncle’s  care. 

« 

It  was  just  there  that  the  dark  figure  stood. 

The  person  seemed  to  be  regarding  the  seeming 
drunkard  with  unusual  attention. 

No  other  living  creatures  were  visible  on  the  street. 

A policeman  had  just  passed  through,  and  was  then 
walking  up  Wall  Street. 

Where  had  the  dark  figure  been  when  the  guardian 
of  the  place  passed  by?  Hidden,  no  doubt,  in  some 
nook  carefully  considered  beforehand. 


140  A Clever  Game  Blocked, 

^Suddenly  Nick  released  his  hold  upon  the  railing  and 
staggered  up  the  street. 

He  approached  the  watchful  person  whose  attention 
seemed  to  be  less  eagerly  directed  toward  him,  since  his 
gait  had  so  clearly  indicated  his  inebriated  condition. 

They  met.  The  unstead}r  one  lurched  toward  the 
other,  who  put  out  his  hand  to  push  him  away. 

A second  later  they  fell  together,  but  without  noise. 
Nick’s  hand  was  on  the  other’s  throat. 

Holding  him  thus,  he  turned  and  waved  his  arm 
toward  the  spot  where  he  knew  the  two  men  must  be 
watching  him.1 

They  advanced  hurriedly  to  the  spot,  but  without 
noise. 

Nick  had  bound  and  gagged  his  man  when  they 
arrived. 

He  threw  the  light  from  his  small  pocket  lantern  into 
the  fellow’s  face,  after  having  dragged  him  into  a door- 
way. 

“Did  you  ever  see  him  before?”  be  asked  of  Duncan. 

“By  heavens,  I have!”  whispered  Duncan.  “He 
was  on  the  train  when  I came  East.  But  Anderson 
took  no  notice  of  him.  No,  Anderson  didn’t  know 
him.” 

“Didn’t  he?”  said  Nick.  “What  do  you  say  to  that, 
my  lad?” 

He  laid  his  hand  upon  the  prostrate  man. 

Naturally  he  said  nothing,  being  securely  gagged; 
but  there  was  a gleam  in  his  eyes  which  seemed  to  sat- 
isfy the  detective. 

“Now,  Mr.  Hartwell,”  said  Nick,  in  hurried  tones, 
“let  me  state  the  case  in  a word. 

“A  band  of  rascals,  of  whom  this  fellow  on  the 
ground  is  one,  and  A1  Jordan,  alias  Albert  J.  Ander- 
son, the  forger  and  swindler,  is  another,  got  bold,  in 


A Clever  Game  Blocked.  141 

some  mysterious  way,  of  the  fact  that  you  were  to  take 
your  nephew  into  your  employ,  and  that  neither  you 
hor  anybody  else  in  your  establishment  had  ever  seen 

him. 

4 ‘Anderson,  attended  by  this  man,  went  West  and 
made  the  acquaintance  of  your  nephew  on  the  train. 

“Anderson  persuaded  him  to  accept  the  offer  of  an 
apparently  excellent  situation  abroad. 

“He  also  received  a letter  written  to  you  by  your 
nephew.  This  was  doneNfor  the  purpose  of  enabling 
him  to  make  a study  of  Duncan’s  handwriting. 

“He  intended  to  take  your  nephew’s  place  in  the 
banking  establishment  for  the  purpose  of  robbing  you ; 
and  of  course  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  write  in  imi- 
tation of  Duncan,  since  you  were  familiar  with  your 
nephew’s  penmanship. 

“The  scheme  worked.  Duncan  was  safely  got  to 
sea. 

“The  bogus  Duncan  apppeared  in  your  office  on 
Monday  morning,  and  was  received  as  your  nephew. 

“The  intervening  time  has  been  occupied  in  securing 
a knowledge  of  the  safes  and  their  combinations,  as 
well  as  their  contents. 

“And  to-night,  at  this  very  moment,  the  gang  is 
looting  your  strong  rooms ! They  are  knee-deep  in  your 
stocks  and  bonds. 

“Of  course,  when  I came  down  here  I couldn’t  be 
sure  that  the  job  would  be  done  to-night.  But  there 
was  no  time  to  spare. 

“This  was  their  watcher  on  the  outside.  We  have 
captured  him.  Now  we  must  carry  our  attack  home 
to  those  w7hom  this  fellow  has  served.  ” 

“The  police!”  gasped  Mr.  Hartwell,  hoarsely. 
“We  must  call  the  police.” 

“We  do  not  need  them,  and  we  have  no  time  to  sum* 


142 


A Clever  Game  JBlocked. 

mon  their  aid  in  a proper  manner.  If  they  came 
merely  on  an  alarm,  they  would  be  just  as  likely  to 
shoot  us  as  to  shoot  the  criminals. 

“Here  is  a pistol  for  each  of  you.  Spare  nobody. 
Shoot  to  kill!  This  is  no  child’s  play.  I don’t  know 
how  many  are  inside,  but  from  my  knowledge  of  this 
particular  gang  I should  judge  that  there  were  three. 

“Jordan,  alias  Anderson,  has  a brother;  and  this 
fellow,  whose  name  is  Phil  Kingman,  also  has  a 
brother.  In  fact,  he  has  two.  It  was  one  of  them 
whom  you  dragged  through  that  window,  Duncan;  and 
it  was  probably  that  adventure  which  put  the  gang 
onto  you, 

“Now  are  you  ready?  Let  us  go  in,  then.” 

“But  I have  no  key,”  stammered  the  banker.  “We 
can’t  get  in.  And,  besides,  they  might  shoot.” 

“Stay  here,  if  you’re  afraid.” 

“I  don’t  dare  to  stay  here.  This  fellow  might  get 
loose;  the  others  might  rush  out.” 

“ Well,  you  must  do  one  or  the  other.  That’s  evident. 
I advise  you  to  come  with  us.  And  as  for  locks,  they 
won’t  stop  us.  I can  open  the  doors  all  right.” 

Nick’s  remark  about  the  locks  was  no  empty  boast. 

In  less  than  two  minutes  the  three  men  stood  in  the 
main  ball  of  the  building. 

To  the  right  were  the  principal  offices  of  the  bank. 

Below  were  the  vaults,  where  the  largest  amount  of 
cash  arid  all  the  principal  securities  were  kept. 

The  bank  was  quiet;  but  in  the  stillness  of  the  great 
building  a faint  sound  from  below  was  soon  audible  to 
the  listeners. 

“They’re  at  it,”  whispered  Duncan. 

“Opening  the  inside  drawers,  etc.,  of  the  big  safe,  I 
should  say,  judging  from  the  sound,”  responded  Nick, 

“But  where’s  the  watchman?”  gurgled  the  banker. 


A Clever  Game  Blocked*.  143 

“Overpowered ; perhaps  dead,”  replied  Nick.  “Ah! 
there  he  is.” 

He  had  cautiously  opened  the  door  of  his  lantern, 
and  had  let  its  light  glance  through  the  hall. 

On  the  floor  at  the  other  end  lay  what  seemed  to  be 
a bundle  of  clothing. 

It  proved  to  be  the  unfortunate  watchman,  bleeding 
from  a wound  in  the  back  of  the  head,  and  nearly 
stifled  by  the  gags  which  had  been  thrust  into  his 
mouth. 

“Is  he  dead?”  whispered  the  banker. 

“No  ; and  I don’t  think  he  is  going  to  die.  We  must 
leave  him  now.  And,  for  Heaven’s  sake,  Mr.  Hart- 
well, put  some  control  upon  yourself.  Your  teeth  are 
chattering  so  loudly  that  they  are  likely  to  alarm  the 
dead  in  Trinity  churchyard.” 

Indeed,  the  banker  was  in  a pitiable  condition.  His 
breath  whistled  in  his  lungs,  and  his  hands  shook  so 
violently  that  it  was  more  dangerous,  perhaps,  to  trust 
him  with  a revolver  than  to  permit  him  to  go  unarmed. 

After  making  the  position  of  the  wounded  watchman 
somehat  easier — though  he  was  unconscious  and  seem- 
ingly utterly  beyond  pain— Nick  led  the  way  to  the 
vaults  below. 

There  was  a faint  gleam  upon  the  stone  stairs  which 
led  down  to  the  storehouse  of  treasure  in  which  the 
burglars  were  at  work. 

Motioning  the  others  back,  Nick  advanced  to  a spot 
from  which  he  could  get  a view  of  the  vault. 

He  saw  three  men  at  work  there,  speedily,  cautiously, 
with  weapons  lying  ready  for  instant  use. 

The  detective  turned  toward  his  small  force. 

“Are  you  ready?”  he  whispered,  in  a voice  so  soft 
that  it  could  scarcely  be  heard,  but  was  intelligible 
rather  from  the  motion  of  his  lips. 


J 


j.4,4  A Clever  Game  Blocked. 

Duncan  nodded.  Be  was  as  cool  as  the  stone  walls 
around  him. 

Whatever;  might  be  thought  of  the  young  man’s 
shrewdness,  his  courage  was  evidently  beyond  criti- 
cism. He  showed  no  more  fear  than  the  detective  him- 
self. 

As  for  Mr.  Hartwell,  he  nodded  aiso  j but  it  may 
have  been  the  unconscious  rocking  of  his  head  upon  his 

spine. 

“Then  follow  me!”  whispered  Nick.  . ^ _ 

Instantly  the  old;  banker  emitted  an  ear-splitting 
scream,  and  fired  his  revolver  straight  upward  at  the 

iron  floor  over  his  head. 

Nick  and  Duncan  sprang  forward. 

The  burglars  stood  to  their  weapons. 

A bullet  from  the  detective’s  revolver  laid  one  of 

them  low. 

Another,  firing  rapidly,  retreated  along  a passage. 
Niek  rushed  after  him. 

‘“Albert  J.  Anderson,”  so  called,  did  not  retreat. 

Bnwounded  by  the  volley  directed  upon  him  at  the 
outset  by  Nick  and  Duncan— for  even  the  detective’s 
aim  was  somewhat  baffled  by  the  wavering  light,  and: 
the  number  of  iron  pillars  and  bars  which  half  screened 
the  thieves — Anderson  ran  straight  upon  Duncan. 

When  Niek,  having  brought  down  the  man  whom  be 
pursued,  turned  to  aid  his  companion,  he  saw  the  two 
men— both  giants  in  stature — locked  in  a deadly  em- 
brace. 

The  next  instant  he  beheld  the  powerful  crook  hurl 
his  opponent  to  the  floor.  Half  blind  with  rage,  he 
turned  to  run  for  his  life,  and  rushed  straight  toward 
Niek.  The  great  detective  met  him  face  to  face. 

The  crook  sustained  a terrible  blow  without  losing 
hre  fnnting  or  checking  his  mad  advance. 


A Clever  Game  Blocked.  - 145 

/ 

Then  for  an  instant  they  were  locked  in  each  other’s 
arms;  and  slowly,  surely,  with  steady  and  tremendous 
power,  Nick  Carter’s  iron  strength  prevailed  and  bore 
the  other  down, 

“So  we’ve  captured  them  all!”  exclaimed  Banker 
Hartwell,  a few  minutes  later,  as  Nick  and  Duncan 
surveyed  their  fallen  foes. 

“Yes,  we  have,”  said  the  detective,  with  a faint  em- 
phasis on  the  pronoun. 

“If  that  fellow  ever  regains  his  liberty,”  said  Dun- 
can, calmly,  pointing  to  Anderson,  “I’d  like  to  try  him 
again.  I’m  shot  in  the  shoulder,  you  know',  and  that 
gave  him  an  advantage.” 

The  brave  fellow  had  not  mentioned  it  before. 

Happily,  his  wound  was  not  serious;  but  he  will 
probably  never  have  the  pleasure  of  getting  even  wvith 
Anderson,  for  that  enterprising  manager  of  imaginary 
bicycle  companies  will  be  over  fifty  years  old  when  he 
gets  out  of  prison. 

It  may  interest  the  reader  to  know  that  Duncan  im- 
mediately entered  his  uncle’s  emplojf  on  much  more 
liberal  terms  than  those  offered  him  at  first.  His  duties 
are  pleasant,  the  salary  is  a good  one,  and  his  prospects 
of  advancement  are  excellent.  He  therefore  has  reason 
to  believe  that  is  he  is  really  a lucky  young  man. 

It  is  safe  to  say  that  he  will  be  treated  fairly  well ; 
‘for  Uncle  Ben  does  not  desire  to  provoke  his  nephew 
to  tell  the  story  of  the  banker’s  bravery  on  the  occasion 
of  that  midnight  sortie. 


THE  END. 


■ 


- 


* 


NORTHRUP'S  LITTTE  GAME, 


r-v 

A 


* *■ 


■- 


~ / 


( 


/ 


NORTHRUP'S  LITTLE  GAME. 


CHAPTER  1. 

THE  GAME  IS  BEGUN. 

Washington  I.  Putnam  is  generally  called  com- 
modore, although  the  rank  which  he  held  in  the  United 
States  Navy  during  the  war  was  much  humbler. 

His  record,  however,  was  distinctly  one  to  be  proud 
of,  though  his  services  to  the  Government  were  scantily 
rewarded. 

He  was  one  of  the  few  who,  at  that  early  time,  recog- 
nized the  value  of  torpedo  boats  and  small,  swift  rams. 
Students  of  history  may  remember  him  in  connection 
with  the  speedy  little  Destroyer,  which  did  good  service 
in  Fairagut’s  gulf  squadron.  But  for  the  general  pub- 
lic, his  achievements  with  the  torpedo  vanished  amid 
the  dazzling  brilliancy  of  Cushing’s  spectacular  hero- 
ism. * 

After  the  close  of  hostilities,  he  devoted  himself  to 
the  development  of  certain  inventions  connected  with 
shipbuilding;  and  they  made  him  rich. 

Such,  in  brief,  is  his  history.  In  person  he  is  tail, 
spare,  and  erect  at  the  age  of  sixty-five.  His  face  is  a 
typical  New  England  countenance,  strong  and  shrewd, 
thin  and  deeply  lined. 

So  much  by  way  of  introduction.  Now  for  the  story. 

‘ 4 Commodore”  Putnam  sat  in  his  office  at  ten  o’clock 
of  an  October  morning,  examining  the  plans  of  a sub- 
marine boat  1 - 


1 5°  The  Game  is  Begun. 

It  was  his  own  invention ; the  plans  had  been  drawn 
by  him,  and  only  one  other  human  being  had  ever  seen 
them. 

Daniel  Northrup  was  that  other;  and,  as  the  com- 
modore sat  there  with  the  plans  before  him,  Northrup’s 
name  was  spoken  in  his  ^ar. 

The  commodore  lookeckup  suddenly.  He  had  been 
so  much  engrossed  that  he  had  not  noticed  the  advent 
of  a boy  from  the  outer  office. 

6 ‘Tell  him  to  come  in,”  said  the  commodore. 

As  the  boy  turned  his  back,  Putnam,  with  a swift 
movement,  folded  the  plans,  and  pushed  them  under  a 
great  sheet  of  blotting  paper  which  covered  the  rude 
table  at-whick  he  sat. 

A minute  later,  Northrup  thrust  his  dark  face  around 
the  edge  of  the  door.  It  was  one  of  this  man’s  pecu- 
liarities that  he  never  entered  a room  in  any  other  way. 

He  had  a most  extraordinary  method  of  getting  his 
face  in,  while  not  another  inch  of  him  was  visible. 
At  such  times  he  looked  like  a mask  pushed  in  on  the 
end  of  a stick,  to  draw  the  fire  of  a possible  enemy. 

His  face  suggested  a debauched  Italian  aristocrat, 
though  in  reality  he  was  born  in  Northern  New  York 
and  was  of  Irish  descent. 

The  commodore  smiled  contemptuously  at  Northrup’s 
saturnine  countenance,  while,  on  the  other  side,  the 
swift,  dark  eyes  of  the  visitor  took  in  every  detail  of 
the  room. 

There  was  not  much  to  see.  It  was  as  bare  as  a barn 
floor.  There  were  four  strong  chairs,  and  the  thin* 
legged  table  at  which  Putnam  sat. 

“Come  in,  Northrop,”  said  Putnam.  “There  are  no 
creditors  here.” 

“There  is  a debtor,  Mr.  Putnam,”  rejoined  Northrup^ 
closing  the  £ - md  advancing  npm:  - ^ mmodor% 


The  Game  is  Begun.  151 

•‘and ‘you  know  it  You  owe  me  an  interest  in  your 
latest  invention,  and  I mean  to  have  it.” 

“I  owe  you  nothing.  For  one  day  you  were  inter- 
ested in  that  enterprise.  Then  I found  that  you  were  a 
rascal,  and  I kicked  you  out.  You  dare  not  take  your 
case  into  the  courts.” 

“It  is  of  that  that  I wished  to  speak  with  you.” 

As  he  spoke,  Northrup  drew  up  a chair,  and  sat 
down,  facing  Putnam  across  the  table. 

“If  I do  not  get  what  belongs  to  me  in  any  other 
way,”  he  continued,  “I  shall  certainly  sue.  But  why 
can’t  we  come  to  an  understanding?  You  listened  to 
me  once.  You  expressed  approval  of  my  scheme,  and 
you  offered  to  make  me  a partner — in  fact,  did  make 
me  a partner,  as  I contend.” 

“And  then  discovered  that  you  intended  to  sell  me 
out  to  the  English  Government,”  responded  Putnam, 
“No,  sir;  my  country  shall  get  the  benefit  of  my  invent 
tion,  or  it  shall  die  with  me.” 

“But  you  forget  that  I already  know  the  secret.” 
Putnam  laughed. 

“You  know  nothing,”  he  said.  “If  you  did,  ^ou 
would  not  be  here.  You  would  be  bargaining  with  the 
British  Consul. 

“I  confided  in  you  to  a certain  extent.  I showed 
you  my  plans.  But  you  were  so  ignorant  of  mechanics, 
despite  your  boasts,  that  you  could  not  carry  the  idea  in 
your  mind. 

“What  you  remember  is  of  no  use  to  you,  and  would 
be  valueless  to  anybody  to  whom  you  might  communi- 
cate it.  What  you  need,  my  friend,  are  the  draw- 
ings, and  if  you  got  a chance  you  would  steal  them. 

“Howy  many  pounds  sterling  would  her  Britannic 
Majesty  give  you?  I don’t  know.  A good  many, 
probably.  But  you  will  never  get  them.” 


*52 


The  Game  is  Begun. 

“I  will  have  rny  rights,”  siiddenly  exclaimed  North- 
rup,  in  a harsh  and  menacing  tone. 

He  leaned  over  the  table/and  his  long,  yellow  hand, 
strong  as  a vise,  seemed  about  to  grip  the  (fommodore’s 
windpipe. 

“I’m  positively  afraid  of  you,  Northrup,”  cried  Putr 
nam,  starting  up  from  his  chair.  “I  have  felt  so  for 
some  days.  Therefore,  expecting  a call  from  you,  I 
have  provided  myself  with  this.” 

He  walked  to  the  wall,  where  his  overcoat  hung  upon 
a peg,  and  took  a revolver  from  the  pocket. 

“Now  we  can  talk  more  at  our  ease,”  said  he,  turn- 
ing toward  Northrup,  with  the  pistol  in  his  hand. 

The  visitor  slowly  withdrew  from  the  table,  taking 
his  chair  with  him.  He  had  moved  in  the  direction  of 
the  door.  Finally,  deciding  that  this  means  of  exit 
was  near  enough,  he  planted  the  chair  upon  the'  floor 
and  sat  down. 

The  two  men  looked  at  each  other  for  several  minutes 
without  speaking.  Putnam  was  smiling  sarcastically. 
“ Was  it  raining  as  you  came  in?”  he  asked,  glancing 
at  a wet  umbrella  which  Northrup  clutched  nervously 
in  his  hand.  “Dear  me,  what  weather  we’re  having !” 

The  dark-faced  fellow  scowled  morosely. 

“Don’t  play  with  me,”  he  said.  “I  came  to  talk  of 
justice,  not  the  weather.” 

He  set  the  umbrella  against  the  wall,  and  drew  his 
chair  up  to  the  table  again ; but  he  kept  a wary  eye  on 
the  revolver. 

“I  am  afraid  that  justice  is  a subject  with  which 
you  are  as  unfamiliar  as  you  are  with  mechanics,”  said 
Putnam. 

“You,  who  have  wronged  me  so  deeply,  have  nc 
right  to  talk  in  that  way,”  rejoined  Northrup;  and  he 
proceeded  to  make  a long  statement  of  his  claim. 


*53 


The  Game  is  Begun. 

It  was  founded  on  a palpable  confidence  game.  He 
had  come  to  Putnam,  originally,  for  no  other  purpose 
than  to  defraud  him  of  the  invention,  of  which  some 
inkling  had  got  into  the  newspapers. 

By  false  pretenses  and  the  smoothest  of  oily  tongues, 
he  had  succeeded  in  making  an  impression  on  the  hon- 
est old  commodore;  but  it  had  not  lasted  long,  as  the 
reader  knows. 

‘‘Nonsense!  nonsense!”  exclaimed  Putnam  at  last. 
“I’ve  let  you  talk  enough.  I let  you  in  here  in  order 
to  get  some  hint  of  what  you  and  your  infamous  pal, 
Howard  Keating,  intended  to  do.  I’ve  heard  you  long 
enough.  Now,  go;  and  if  ever  you ” 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  sudden  opening  of  the 

0 

door. 

A fat-faced,  shifty-eyed  rascal,  showily  dressed, 
forced  his  way  into  the  room,  despite  the  remonstrance 
of  the  office  boy,  who  could  be  heard  upon  the  outside. 

But  the  intruder  got  no  more  than  one  long  stride 
into  the  room. 

He  was  brought  to  a halt  by  the  sight  of  the  commo- 
dore’s pistol. 

“Get  out  of  here,  Keating,”  cried  Putnam.  “Get 
out,  quick;  and  don’t  let  me  see  you  here  again.” 

“I  was  only  looking  for  our  mutual  friend,  North- 
rup,”  stammered  Keating,  making  a very  unsuccessful 
effort  to  put  a good  face  upon  the  matter. 

It  was  noticeable,  however,  that  he  backed  away  as 
far  as  the  door,  which  he  had  closed  behind  him,  would 
permit.  There  he  stood,  and  mopped  his  fat  face  with 
his  handkerchief.  He  seemed  to  be  dripping  with  per- 
spiration, though  the  day  was  chilly. 

“I  don’t  care  what  }tou  came  for.  Get  out,”  said 
Putnam,  and  Keating  hastily  obeyed. 

The  commodore  turned  and  faced  Northrup  hotly. 


I 


I 


1.54  The  Game  is  Begun. 

“Did  that  fellow  com©  here  by  your  orders?”  he 
cried. 

“Bless  you,  nol”  exclaimed  North r up.  “I  didn’t 
even  know  he  was  in  the  city.  He  must  have  just  got 
back.  He’s  been  to  Washington.  ” 

“I  don’t  know  whether  you’re  lying  or  not;  but  it 
doesn’t  matter.  I’m  done  with  both  of  you,  from  this 
on. 

“Now  hear  what  I have  to  say.  I laugh  at  your 
claim.  As  for  your  plots,  they  will  fail. 

“You  will  never  hold  my  plans  in  your  dirty  fingers, 
which  . you  would  make  dirtier  by  a bribe  to  betray  your 
country. 

“My  plans  are  here,  and  they  are  safe  from  you.  I 
will  shake  them  under  your  nose  before  I kick  you  out 
again,  and  that’s  the  last  you’ll  ever  see  of  them.” 

As  he  spoke,  the  commodore  lifted  the  blotter,  and 
thrust  bis  hand  under  it. 

Then  he  flung  it  off  upon  the  floor. 

The  top  of  the  table  was  entirely  revealed. 

And  the  plans  were  not  there. 


i ■ 


Nick  Announces  Victory. 


155 


CHAPTER  II. 

NICK  ANNOUNCES  VICTORY. 

1 ‘What  have  you  done  with  them?”  yelled  Putnam; 
“Tell  me,  or  I’ll  shoot  you  where  you  stand.” 

“I?”  gasped  Northrup.  “What  could  I have  done 
with  them?  Where  were  they?” 

“You  know  well  enough  where  they  were.  In  some 
infernal  way  you  got  them  out  from  under  that  blotter 
“I  see  your  scheme  nowr ; but,  thank  Heaven,  I brought 
it  to  failure. 

“You  intended  to  pass  the  plans  to  your  dirty  partner, 
Keating;  but  I stopped  him  in  his  tracks. 

“So  you  must  have  them.  Come,  now,  I’m  in  jpo 
mood  for  nonsense.  Pull  off  that  coat.” 

Northrup  protested;  but  he  yielded  at  the  point  of  the 
pistol.  He  removed  the  coat. 

“Throw  it  over  here,”  demanded  Putnam.  “I  won’t 
come  near  you.  I can’t  tell  what  infernal  scheme  you 
have  to  do  away  with  me.” 

The  coat  was  throwm  over  the  table.  Putnam 
searched  it  with  his  left  hand  while  his  right  held  the 
pistol. 

The  plans  were  not  in  the  coat.  Putnam  looked 
puzzled. 

“If  I had  somebody  to  keep  you  quiet  while  I went 
through  your  pockets,”  he  began.  “But,  no;  I wTon’t 
allow  anybody  in  this  room.  Even  a policeman  might 
be  in  your  pay. 


156  Nick  Announces  Victory. 

/ 

“Here!  stand  up  against  that  wall.  Face  about, 
march ! Now  put  your  hands  up  over  your  head. 

“I’ll  show  you  that  two  can  play  at  the  robber  game. 
I’m  going  through  you  in  proper  style.  And  if  you 
turn  around,  or  drop  your  hands,  you’re  a dead  man.” 

Northrup  obeyed  orders  for  his  life. 

The  search  which  the  commodore  made  w-ould  have 

4-‘ 

done  credit  to  the  most  accomplished  highwayman  on 
earth. 

But  he  did  not  find  the  plans. 

They  were  not  concealed  about  the  table  or  the  chairs. 
The  bare  room  offered  no  chance  for  a hiding-place. 

“Well,  I must  say  that  you’re  an  accomplished  ras- 
cal,” said  Putnam  at  last.  “What  you’ve  done  with 
those  drawings  is  entirely  beyond  me. 

“You  may  take  down  your  hands,  and  sit  in  that 
chair.  If  you  get  out  of  it,  I’ll  blow  your  head  off.” 

He  spoke  in  great  vexation,  but  there  was  a tinge  of 
grim  amusement  in  it. 

The  case  was  not  yet  desperately  serious,  for,  of 
course,  he  knew  that  the  plans  had  not  been  taken  out 
of  the  room. 

He  went  to  the  door  and  rapped  upon  it. 

“Well,  sir?”  said  the  boy. 

“I’m  going  to  push  a note  under  this  door.  Take  it 
to  Police  Headquarters,  and  don’t  lose  a second.” 

He  hastily  wrote  a few  lines,  sealed  them  up  in  an 
envelope,  and  delivered  them  to  the  ^office  hoy  in  the 
extra  cautious  method  which  he  had  named.  Then  he 
sat  down ; and  the  two  men  faced  each  oth^r  for  more 
than  an  hour.  Evidently,  Putnam  had  expected  a 
much  longer  session,  for  he  seemed  surprised  when 
there  was  a knock  upon  the  door,  and  the  boy’s  voioe 
said  : 

“Mr.  Carter  is  here,  sir*,s 


Nick  Announces  Victory.  157 

Putnam  instantly  opened  the  door,  and  admitted  the 
famous  detective. 

“Mr.  Carter,  I’m  glad  to  see  you,”  he  said;  “and  I 
hope  you’ll  think  my  case  worthy  of  your  attention., 

' “That  black-browed,  blacker-hearted  ruffian  in  the 
chair  there  has  stolen  the  plans  of  one  of  my  inventions. 

“He  has  done  it  right  under  .my  nose,  and  he  hasn’t 
left  the  room  since.  Yet  I can’t  find  them,  after  the 
most  careful  search.” 

Nick  let  his  eyes  slowly  sweep  around  the  apartment. 
Northrup  regarded  him  earnestly. 

Suddenly  a light  flashed  into  the  detective’s  eyes,  and 
he  stepped  forward. 

“You’ve  got  them?”  cried  Putnam,  who  had  watched 
Nick  closely. 

“No,”  said  the  detective;  *‘and,  what’s  more,  they’re 
not  in  the  room.” 

“They  must  be!”  exclaimed  Putnam.  * “What  pos- 
sible reason  can  you  have  for  thinking  that  they  are 
not?” 

“That  man’s  face  revealed  it  to  me,”  replied  Nick. 
“He  was  watching  me  as  closely  as  you  were.  He  saw 
my  little  bit  of  acting  when  I feigned  to  have  discov- 
ered the  plans. 

“He  fully  understood,  and  yet  he  remained  perfectly 
calm.  If  be  had  an  emotion,  it  was  one  of  relief,  that 
I should  be  so  easily  deceived. 

“No,  Mr.  Putnam,  it  will  be  useless  to  search  for  the 
plans  here.” 

The  commodore  had  doubted  Nick’s  original  state- 
ment, but  he  was  shaken  by  a second  look  at  Northrup. 

The  villain’s  swarthy  features  were  wrinkled  into  a 
most  unamiable  expression.  A child  could  have  seen 
that  be  was  angry  with  himself  for  having  been  tricked 
into  the  betrayal  of  a secret. 


1 58  Nick  Announces  Victory. 

“And  now,”  said  Nick,  “since  we  know  that  they 
are  not  here,  let’s  try  to  find  out  how  they  got  away, 
and  where  they  have  gone. 

“In  the  first  place,  who  has  been  here?” 

Putnam  described  Keating’s  entrance. 

“So  you  stopped  him  at  the  door?”  said  Nick. 

“Yes;  he  got  no  farther  than  this  spot.” 

The  commodore  indicated  the  place  where  Keating 
had  stood. 

“And  you  are  sure  that  there  was  no  communication 
between  the  two?” 

“Positive.  Northrup  sat  there.  Keating was  never 
nearer  than  this  spot.  There’s  a good  twelve  feet  be- 
tween them,  and  I had  my  eye  on  Keating  every 
second.” 

“Tell  me  exactly  what  he  did.” 

“Why,  he  didn’t  do  anything  except  stand  there  and 
mop  his  face  with  his  handkerchief.  He  seemed  to  be 
sweating  like  a horse,  for  he  used  both  hands  to  mop 
his  bloated  countenance.” 

“Both  hands?  Then  he  brought  nothing  into  the 
room.” 

“Yes,  he  did.  He  brought  an  umbrella;  but  he  set 
it  against  the  wall  while  he  wiped  his  face.” 

“Against  the  wall,  eh?  Yes,  of  course,  where  else 
should  he  put  it.  Well,  after  he’d  dried  his  face,  what 
did  he  do?” 

“Put  his  handkerchief  into  his  pocket,  and  went 
out.” 

“Surely,  he  did  something  more.  For  instance, 
didn’t  he 

Nick  checked  himself  suddenly. 

. “By  the  way,”  he  said,  “I  ought  to  ask  you  more 
particularly  what  these  rascals  intended  to  do  with  the 
plans.  Sell  them  to  a foreign  government,  I suppose?” 


*59 


Nick  Announces  Victory. 

“Yes,  to  England.  I know  this  fellow’s  scheme. 
He  tried  to  work  it  on  me.  He  knew  that  I would  give 
them  only  to  Uncle  Sam,  but  he  wanted  to  make  a for- 
tune out  of  Queen  Victoria.  I got  a peep  at  a letter 
intended  for  the  British  Consul.  ” 

“Exactly.  I think  you  have  told  me  all  I require  to 
know.  Good-day,  for  the  present,  commodore.” 

“You’re  not  going  away?” 

“For  only  a short  time,  I trust.  Keep. this  man 
here.  When  I return,  I will  hand  you  your  plans.” 

“But,  Mr.  Carter ” 

Nick  had  already  left  the  office. 

He  went  by  the  quickest  possible  route  to  the  office 
of  the  British  Consul. 

In  an  outer  room  were  several  persons  waiting.  It 
seemed  to  be  an  exceptionally  busy  day  at  the  consulate. 

Among  those  who  waited  was  Keating.  Nick  recog- 
nized - him  at  once  from  a description  furnished  by 
Putnam. 

The  man  was  evidently  in  a state  of  extreme  excite- 
ment. He  repeatedly  looked  anxiously  at  the  outer 
door,  observing  which,  Nick  inferred  that  the  consul 
had  not  come;  and  that  was  the  fact. 

The  detective  had  not  been  in  the  waiting  room  more 
than  a minute,  however, when  the  consul  arrived. 

Although  he  entered  by  another  way,  his  presence 
was  known  in  the  waiting  room. 

Keating  instantly  arose,  and  spoke  in  a low,  earnest 
tone  with  an  attendant,  who  immediately  vanished  into 
the  private  room. 

Nick  stepped  up  to  Keating,  and  whispered  in  his 
oar : ' 

“There’s  a message  from  Northrop.  Come  out  into 
the  hall.” 

K * ling  .glanced  at  the  door  leading  to  the  inner 


i6o  Nick  Announces  Victory. 

office,  and  evidently  decided  that  he  had  sufficient  time 
to  spare. 

He  hastily  left  the  room. 

Nick  followed,  and,  when  they  were  outside,  he 
tapped  his  man  on  the  shoulder. 

“The  message  is  that  the  game’s  up,”  he  said. 
“You’re  under  arrest,  Mr.  Keating.” 

The  man  paled  surprisingly.  Nick  had  rarely  seen 
so  tremendous  an  effect,  though  he  had  delivered  the 
same  message  often. 

“What  for?”  stammered  Keating,  in  a voice  which 
sounded  like  the  dry  croak  of  a parrot. 

“For  stealing  certain  plans  from  the  office  of  Com- 
modore Putnam.  Come  with  me.” 

The  man  made  no  resistance,  but  his  legs  could 
hardly  carry  him  as  he  stumbled  along  with  Nick. 

The  detective  wondered  at  this  complete  breakdown, 
for,  after  all,  the  crime  was  not  sufficient  to  warrant  it. 

The}7  returned  to  the  office  of  Commodore  Putnam. 
Scarcely  a word  was  spoken  by  the  way. 

“Here  you  are,  commodore,”  said  Nick,  as  they  en- 
tered. “I  have  the  man,  and  the  plans.” 

Northrop  met  Keating’s  look  of  despair  with  a glance 
such  as  might  precede  the  thrust  of  a knife. 

“I  couldn’t  help  it,  Dan!”  gasped  the  miserable 
wretch.  “It’s  fate.” 

Northrup’s  lip  curled. 

“You  cur,,f  he  muttered.  “Why  didn’t  you  make  a 
fight  for  it?”  ^ 


Hidden  in  Plain  Sight.  161 

\ \ 

' i ' . 


CHAPTER  ffl. 

HIDDEN  IN  PLAIN  SIGHT. 

When  Nick  thus  announced  his  complete  success, 
the  old  inventor  was  rendered  nearly  speechless  with 

joy. 

He  looked  eagerly  at  the  detective,  expecting  him  to 
take  the  plans  out  of  his  pocket. 

Instead,  Nick  seated  himself:  and  his  manner  indi- 
cated  that  he  had  a story  to  tell. 

“Have  you  discovered  yet,”  he  asked  of  Mr.  Put- 
nam, “how  Keating  succeeded  in  removing  the  plans 
from  this  room?” 

“It  is  simply  impossible.  You  say  he  did  it,  and  so 
I suppose  it’s  true;  but  I can’t  understand  it.”  # 

“The  trick  was  remarkably  simple.  Of  course  it  was 
managed  beforehand. 

“Northrup  must  have  known  of  your  haoit  of  thrust- 
ing a document  or  a drawing  under  that  blotter  when 
you  were  interrupted  by  any  one  who  oughtn’t  to  see 
the  aforesaid  document  or  drawing. 

“Knowing  that,  and  knowing,  also,  that  these  plans 
were  engaging  all  your  attention  just  now,  Northrup 
had  a fair  reason  to  believe  that,  if  he  called  upon  you, 
the  plans  would  be  under  the  blotter. 

“This  fact  he  communicated  to  Keating^  and  they 
proceeded  to  buy  two  umbrellas  exactly  alike.” 

“What’s  all  this  about  umbrellas?”  exclaimed  Put- 
nam impatiently. 


162  Hidden  in. Plain  Sight. 

“ Having  procured  them,”  the  detective  continued 
calmly,  “Northrup  took  his  and  came  to  this  office* 

“He  held  the  umbrella  in  his  hand  as  he  sat  by  your 
table.  It  was  not  folded,  but  hung  loose. 

1 i Then  it  was  necessary  to  make  you  turn  your  back. 
How  did  he  do  that,  Mr.  Putnam?  Did  he  conduct 
himself  in  such  a way  that  you  were  obliged  to  get  a 
weapon? 

“I  see — out  of  your  overcoat  pocket.  Well,  that 
didn’t  give  him  much  time.  He  probably  hoped  that 
you  would  go  to  the  door  and  call  for  assistance. 

“While  your  back  was  turned,  he  slipped  the  draw- 
ings out  from  under  the  blotter,  and  into  his  umbrella. 

“He  then  carelessly  rolled  up  the  umbrella  and 
placed  it  against  the  wall.” 

“But  there  it  is!”  exclaimed  Putnam.  “It  still 
stands  there,  and  yet  you  say  that  you  have  the  plans.” 

“Perhaps  I was  hasty  in  saying  that  I had  them. 
But  let  me  continue. 

“After  you  had  conversed  a little  while.  Keating 
burst  in,  despite  your  boy’s  protest. 

“Of  course,  he  knew  that  he  would  be  ejected  imme- 
diately, but  he  wanted  only  a moment  to  execute  his* 
design. 

“He  took  out  his  handkerchief  and  ostentatiously 
mopped  his  face,  using  both  hands  in  the  operation. 

“This  made  it  necessary  to  set  down  his  umbrella. 
Very  good.  There  were  two  umbrellas  that  looked  just 
alike,  standing  against  the  wall. 

“When  he  had  dried  his  face  he  took  one  of  them. 
How  could  you  tell  that  it  was  his,  and  not  Kortbrup’s, 
that  he  took?”  . 

“Then  it  was  Northrup’s,  and  the  plans  were  in  it!” 
exclaimed  Putnam.  J“ Well,  that’s  beautiful.  Tbat’a 
the  finest  tri^’  I ever  heard  of.  Northrup,  your  other 


Hidden  in  Plain  Sight.  163 

partner,  the  devil,  is  certainly  a superior  person.  He 
must  have  suggested  this  to  you. 

“It  never  came  from  your  brain  or  Keating’s.  What 
a picture  he  makes !” 

The  last  words  referred  to  Keatings  who  sat  in  his 
chair  as  if  the  touch  of  a finger  would  send  him  sprawl- 
ing to  the  floor. 

“Pm 'rained'!”  he  muttered;  “and  all  through  him!’ ’ 

He  pointed  to  Northrup. 

“That  man  has  been  my  evil  genius,”  he  continued. 
“He  urged  me  to  spend  money  that  didn’t  belong  to 
me,  and ” 

“Shut  up!”  yelled  Northrup. 

“Oh,  it’s  no  use.  It’ll  all  come  out  now.  I can’t 
pay  up.  That’s  all  there  is  about  it.  . I’ll  go  to  jail, 
and  you’re  responsible. 

“I’m  not  altogether  dishonest,  Mr.  Carter;  I’d  been 
straight  till  I met  that  fellow. 

“And  as  for  this  scheme  of  the  plans,  I’m  thoroughly 
ashamed  of  it;  for  I’m  no  traitor  to  my  country.  But 
I had  to  go  into  it,  for  in  no  other  way  could  I hope  to 
raise  the  money  to  stave  off  ruin. 

“And  now  it’s  all  over.  Well,  it  can’t  be  helped. 
Here,  Mr.  Putnam,  take  your  plans.  It  is  some  satis- 
faction to  be  able  to  restore  them  to  you.” 

He  fumbled  with  the  umbrella. 

“Tell  me  one  thing,  you  villian!”  said  Putnam,  in 
a trembling  voice.  “Have  these  plans  been  out  of  that 
umbrella?  Have  they  been  copied?” 

“I  guess  I can  answer  that,”  said  Nick.  “He  went 
straight  to  the  consul’s  office.  The  time  of  his  arrival 
shows  that. 

“As  it  wasn’t  raining  when  he  got  outside  this  build- 
ing, be  didn’t  remove  the  plans,  but  left  them  in  the 
umbrella^  jgrobably  thinking  that  the  ^ place.” 


1 64  intddem  in  Plain  Sight. 

4 4 That  is  it,  exactly, 5 ’ said  Keating.  4 4 1 haven’t  seen 
them.  But  here  they  are.” 

He  spread  the  umbrella  as  he  spoke,  and  held  it  up. 

All  eyes  were  fixed  upon  it. 

Nothing  fell  out. 

The  plans  were  not  in  it ! 

If  four  equally  astonished  men  were  ever  together  in 
one  room,  the  present  writer  would  like  to  know  what 
it  was  that  surprised  them.  It  must  have  been  some- 
thing truly  unusual* 

N or  t hr  up  spoke  first. 

44 You  villain !”  he  cried.  “You  have  betrayed  me !” 

And  he  leaped  at  Keating’s  throat. 

Nick  held  him  back. 

4 4 Betrayed  you?”  repeated  the  detective.  4 4 How?” 

44 He  has  taken  them  out.  He  knows  where  they 
are.  But  he  hopes  to  deceive  me,  and  get  the  money 
himself.” 

“You’re  crazy,”  rejoined  Nick.  4 4 Look  at  the  man. 
He’s  more  surprised  than  the  rest  of  us.” 

He  pushed  Northrup  back  into  the  chair. 

Putnam  sat  with  his  mouth  wide  open,  as  if  he 
wanted  to  say  something,  but  couldn’t  think  of  any- 
thing to  fit  the  situation. 

Nick  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  began  to  laugh, 

“What  does  all  this  mean,  Mr.  Carter?”  demanded 
Putnam,  as  soon  as  he  could  speak. 

4 4 It  means  that  my  methods  can  sometimes  fail,” 
said*  Nick.  4 4 They  fi^ve  failed  here,  though,  fortu- 
nately, no  harm  is  done. 

4 4 Of  course,  when  I first  entered  this  room  and  heard: 
the  merest  outline  of  the  case,  I knew  that  speed  was 
the  first  consideration. 

4 4 It  was  necessary  to  get  the  plans  before  they  could 

be  soM  or  conifd'.  . v 


Hidden  in  Plain  Sight.  165 

“I  therefore  worked  the  trick  by  which  I read  North- 
rup’s  face,  and  assured  myself  that  the  plans  were  not 
in  this  room. 

4 4 Then  the  case  was  perfectly  simple.  That  umbrella 
was  absolutely  the  only  solution. 

“Northrup’s  umbrella  was  the  only  thing  he  had 
touched  which  had  been  near  enough  to  Keating  for 
him  to  touch  it  also. 

“There  was  positively  no  other  chance  of  communi- 
cation between  them. 

“So,  of  course,  I hurried  out  after  Keating. 

“Well,  1 caught  him;  and  again  I saw  by  the  ras- 
cal’s face  that  I had  nailed  the  plans. 

“But  here’s  where  the  case,  as  I was  conducting  it, 
went  wrong.  Both  Northrup  and  Keating  were  mis- 
taken ! 

“I  read  them  all  right,  but  they  didn’t  know  the 
Jfacts. 

“I  was  wrong  when  I said  that  the  plans  were  not 
in  this  room. 

“They  were  here,  and  I almost  touched  them. 

4 4 This  has  been  just  like  the  old-time  child’s  game  of 
4I  spy!’  where  an  object  is  hidden  in  plain  sight. 

4 4 It  is  so  very  plain  that  nobody  sees  it. 

“And  here’s  the  explanation.  Keating  is  a man  of 
very  wreak  nerve,  as  you  easily  perceive. 

“He  came  in  here,  according  to  programme,  and  cer- 
tainly intended  to  work  the  trick  of  changing  the  um- 
brellas. 

4 4 But  he  fooled  himself. 

4 4 He  didn’t  get  the  umbrella  that  he  reached  for. 
He  was  so  nervous  that  he  took  the  other. 

44  Yes,  he  actually  walked  out  of  this  room  with  his 
jpwn — with  the  one  he’d  brought  in. 

44 And  here  is  Northrup’s,  with  your  plans  inside  it.” 


1 66 


Hidden  in  Plain  Sight. 

Nick  walked  to  the  wall  where  the  umbrella  stood; 
opened  it,  and  the  plans  fluttered  to  the  floor. 

Putnam  seized  them;  devoured  the  light  and  thin 
bits  of  paper  with  his  eyes,  and  at  last  pronounced  them 
complete  and  uninjured. 

“And  now,  commodore,”  said  Nick,  “what  shall  we 
do  with  these  fellows?” 

“Nothing,  said  the  commodore.  “Let  them  go.  I 
really  ought  to  pay  them  something.  They  have 
furnished  me  with  the  most  amusing  experience  of  my 
life.” 

“That  may  be  all  right  as  to  Northrup,”  said  Nick; 
“though  jail’s  the  proper  place  for  him;  but  Keating 
has  confessed  a serious  crime,  and  I’ll  have  to  look  it 
up.” 

And  he  did  look  it  up  in  so  thorough  a manner  that 
not  only  Keating,  but  Northrup,  are  now  in  stripes. 

The  crime  was  a very  ordinary  embezzlement,  not 
worth  describing  here;  but  it  is  very  interesting  to 
note  that  their  guilty  designs  against  Putnam,  though 
unsuccessful,  were  the  means  of  bringing  them  to  justice. 


THE  END. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  ROOM  NO. 


\ 


. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  ROOM  NO. 


CHAPTER  I. 

WILLIE  GRAY’S  ASTONISHING  ADVENTURE. 

Willie  Gray  was  a lucky  youth.  He  had  every- 
thing be  wanted  that  was  good  for  him,  and  a number 
of  things  that  were  not.  . 

AH  his  father’s  pockets  seemed  to  be  full  of  money, 
and  W illie  never  had  to  ask  twice  for  any  reasonable 
sum. 

He  had  once  heard  his  father  and  mother  discussing 
the  propriety  of  giving  him  an  unusually  expensive  pres- 
ent—a trick  pony,  that  could  do  sums  in  addition,  and 
stand  on  his  forelegs. 

“My  son,”  said  Mr.  Gray,  in  settling  the  question, 
“is  going  to  have  all  the  things  that  I wanted  and 
couldn’t  get  when  I was  a boy;  and  there  are  a good 
many  of  them.” 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Willie  regarded  this  as 
sound  doctrine,  and  hoped  that  his  father  would  stick  to 
it.  He  was  gratified  to  note,  also,  that  his  mother  had 
everything  she  desired.  He  believed  she  was  the  best- 
dressed  woman  in  New  York;  and  this  was  one  of  a 
hundred  reasons  why  he  was  proud  of  her. 

When  Willie  was  seventeen  he  was  a student  in  the 
College  of  the  City  of  New  York.  One  of  his  best 
friends  there  was  a boy  whose  fortunes  were  the  reverse 
of  his  own He  never  had  any  money,  or  swell  clothes; 


170  Willie  Gray’s  Adventure, 

in  fact,  his  parents  could  barely  afford  to  keep  him  at 
school  One  afternoon  Willie  was  on  his  way  to  his 
friend’s  bomb — a tenement  on  the  far  East  Side. 

As  be  passed  across  Avenue  B,  he  was  greatly  sur- 
prised to  see  his  own  mother  coming  up  the  avenue, 
and  about  halfway  between  the  spot  where  he  stood 
and  the  next  street  below. 

Though  she  was  veiled  and  dressed  in  somber  black, 
he  knew  her  the  instant  that  his  eyes  rested  on  her. 

It  flashed  across  his  mind  at  once  that  she  must  be 
making  a visit  of  charity.  He  knew  that  she  went 
regularly  to  the  homes  of  poor  people. 

But  where  was  her  carriage  which  she  always  used 
in  making  such  calls?  Probably  she  had  left  it  in  a 
neighboring  street. 

He  was  interested  at  once  in  the  mission  which  had 
brought  her  there,  and  he  hurried  down  the  avenue  to 
meet  her,  and  ask  her  about  it. 

He  had  taken  only  a few  steps,  however,  when  his 
mother  suddenly  disappeared  in  a narrow  doorway, 
which  led  to  one  of  the  largest  and  most  squalid  of  the 
tenements. 

Evidently  she  had  not  seen  him.  He  quickened  his 
pace,  and  darted  into  the  doorway  on  the  run. 

The  contrast  with  the  bright  day  outside  made  the 
hall  seem  black  as  midnight.  He  hesitated  a moment, 
then,  perceiving  a flight  of  stairs,  he  rushed  up  them, 
three  steps  at  a time,  regardless  of  the  darkness. 

The  next  thing  he  knew,  the  gloom  was  illuminated 
bya  vast  number  of  stars,  and  he  found  himself  sitting 
on  the  steps,  with  an  indefinite  notion  that  he  had 
acquired  three  four  extra  heads,  and  that  all  of  them 
were  very  sore. 

He  had  run  full  tilt  against  an  angle  of  the  wall, 
with  a violence  that  might  have  fractured  his  skull 


Willie  Gray’s  Adventure.  171 

For  several  minutes  he  sat  there,  dizzy  and  confused. 
At  last  the  building  stopped  Hying  round  and  round, 
and  he  recovered  full  command  of  his  senses.  \ 

“I’ve  got  a horrible  lump  on  my  head,”  he  muttered  ; 
“A  little  cold  water  would  be  the  best  thing  for  it.  If 
I can  find  mother,  she’ll  get  me  a chance  to  wash  it.” 

He  began  to  climb  the  stairs.  Just  at  that  moment 
somebody  dashed  in  from  the  street,  and  went  flying  by 
him  at  a pace  that  made  the  rickety  house  shake.  As 
the  noise  of  the  hurrying  steps  died  in  the  regions  above 
him,  there  came  the  sound  of  a loud  whistle  from  the 
street. 

“Police  after  somebody,”  muttered  the  boy.  “This 
is  a nice  place  for  my  mother  to  be  in.  I must  find 
her.” 

Doors  were  opening  in  all  the  halls  as  he  ascended^ 
and  women  were  thrusting  their  heads  out  to  learn  tho 
cause  of  the  disturbance. 

Willie  halted  before  one  of  the  doors  and  asked  the 
woman  standing  there  if  she  had  seen  anj’thing  of  Mrs. 
Gray,  using,  of  course  a description,  and  not  bis 
mother’s  name. 

“She’ll  be  in  number  eleven,  on  the  fourth  floor,” 
replied  the  woman.  “I  know  her.  She  comes  quite 
often  to  see  Mrs.  Manahan?” 

“Who’s  Mrs.  Manahan?” 

“Ask  herself,”  said  the  woman;  and  she  shut  the 
door. 

Another  flight  of  stairs  brought  Willie  to  the  fourth 
floor.  There  he  learned  by  inquiry  that  number  eleven 
was  the  last  tenement  in  the  rear. 

As  he  walked  quickly  down  the  hall  he  saw  that  the 
door  of  number  eleven  was  open,  and  that  a woman 
was  standing  there.  She  drew  back  hastily  as  be  ap- 
proached, and  seemed  to  be  startled  at  the  sight  of  him. 


f 


172  Willie  Gray’s  Adventure. 

“It’s  the  blood  on  my  face,”  he  muttered,  dm  wing 
his  handerkcfaief  across  his  forehead,  and  glancing  at 
the  red  stain  on  the  linen.  “I  must  be  a tough- looking 
object.  But  mother’ll  patch  me  up  in  a jiffy.” 

He  knocked  at  the  door  of  number  eleven,  and  again, 
for  his  first  summons  brought  no  response. 

Then  the  door  was  slowly  opened  by  a stout  Irish- 
woman, with  a large  basket  on  her  arm.  It  was  she 
whom  he  had  seen  as  he  came  down  the  hall;  or,  at 
least,  he~  would  have  said  so  confidently,  had  he  been 
asked.  , 

“I’m  looking  for  Mrs.  Gray,”  he  said.  “She’s  my 
mother.  You  know  her,  don’t  you?” 

“Shure,  Oi  know  her,”  replied  the  woman;  “and  a 
good,  kind  lady  she  is.  Well,  well,  so  you’re  her  son! 
an’  a fine  bye,  Oi’ll  he  bound.” 

“ Thank  you.  Is  my  mother  in  your  rooms?” 

“No;  she’s  just  gone  away.” 

“Is  it  possible?  Why,  I came  right  up  the  stairs, 
and  I’m  sure  she  didn’t  pass  me.” 

“She  went  out  the  other  way.” 

As  she  said  this,  Mrs.  Manahai^  pointed  to  a narrow 
flight  of  stairs  which  led  down  from  the  hall  at  the 
rear. 

“Where  does  that  go?”  asked  Willie. 

“To  the  alley  that  runs  behind  all  these  tinimints  to 
the  street  bejrant.  Hurry,  an’  you’ll  catch  her.” 

During  most  of  this  conversation,  Mrs.  Manahan  had 
been  fumbling  with  the  lock  of  her  door.  At  the  last 
words  she  succeeded  in  turning  the  key ; then,  with- 
out another  word,  she  hurried  toward  the  stairs  at  the 
front  of  the  building. 

Willie  made  the  best  speed  possible  by  the  other 
route. 

“Hold  on  there!”  exclaimed-  a man,  with  a partiou- 


Willie  Gray’s  Adventure.  173 

la'rly  loud  voice,  as  the  lad  was  about  to  make  fa  is  exit 
into  the  alley. 

It  was  too  late  for  Willie  to  “hold  on.”  He  was 
going  too  fast;  and  the  consequence  was  that  he  ran 
straight  into  the  arms  of  the  speaker,  who  was  a large 
and  strongly  built  man.  \ ^ 

“I  beg  your  pardon!”  exclaimed  the  boy,  attempt- 
ing to  free  himself. 

The  man  hung  on  to  him.  Willie  lost  his  temper. 

He  was  an  unusually  big  boy,  and  an  artist  in  foot- 
ball tactics.  ^ 

“Let  go  of  me!”  he  yelled,  and  instantly  performed 
the  elbow  trick  with  such  vigor  that  his  antagonist 
narrowly  escaped  falling  headlong  into  the  hall  of  the 
tenement  house. 

Recovering  himself,  the  man  blew  a shrill  blast  on  a 
whistle;  and  YVTllie,  who  was  careering  down  the  alley, 
found  himself  confronted  by  a burly  policeman. 

The  lad  had  no  desire  to  resist  the  constituted  authori- 
ties, and  he  surrendered  at  discretion.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  he  was  having  more  trouble  in  a quarter  of 
an  hour  than  he  had  had  before  in  all  his  life. 

He  was  led  back  to  the  door,  where  he  told  his  story 
to  the  policeman  and  the  other  man,  who  proved  to  be 
a ward  officer  in  citizen’s  dress. 

“That  don’t  go,”  replied  the  latter.  “Your  mother 
hasn’t  come  out  of  this  door.” 

“How  long  have  you  been  here?”  asked  the  boy. 

“About  four  hours,”  was  the  reply. 

“Four hours!  Oh,  I see.  You’ve  been  on  the  watch 
for  somebody.  Then  my  mother  must  be  in  the  house.  ” 

“If  she  came  in  within  twenty  minutes  she’s  there 
now.  Both  doors  and  the  roof  are  guarded.  Nobody 
is  allowed  to  come  out.  There’s  a fellow  inside  that 
we  want,  and  we’re  going  to  have  him.” 


1 74  Willie  Gray's  Adventure, 

As  he  spoke,  three  more  policemen  appeared  in  the 
alley.  - • 

“Now  we’re  ready,”  said  the  ward  man, 

Onxe  of  the  policemen  was  left  at  the  door,  revolver 
in  hand.  The  remainder  of  the  party  went  into  the 
house.  Willie  made  a move  to  go  with  them;  but  they 
told  him  to  remain  at  the  door. 

“ You’d  better  let  me  go,”  he  said.  “X  was  on  the 
other  stairs  when  the  man  you  want  came  in,  and  I be- 
lieve I can  tell  you  what  part  of  the  house  he’s  hidden 
in.” 

“Who  is  this  chap?”  asked  one  of  the  policemen. 

“Says  his  name’s  William  Gray,”  replied  the  ward 
man;  “and  that  he’s  looking  for  his  mother,  who  came 
here  on  a charitable  visit.  Seems  to  be  a straight  boy,  ” 

“ Who  split  his  head  open?” 

“Says  he  bumped  it  coming  upstairs.” 

“Queer  story.” 

“May  be  true,  though.  Come  along,  my  lad;  and  if 
you  can  give  us  any  tip  on  Eeddy  Gallagher,  we’ll  be 
much  obliged  to  you.” 

“He’s  on  the  fourth  floor,”  said  Willie  decidedly. 
“There’s  no  use  looking  for  him  lower  down  than 
that.” 

H is  straightforward  manner  produced  an  impression. 
The  police  proceeded  at  once  to  the  fourth  floor. 

They  searched  thoroughly  till  .they  came  to  Mrs. 
Manahan’s  door;  but  the  criminal  was  not  to  be  found. 
The  ward  man  knocked,  but  there  was  ncyesponse  from 
number  eleven.  A skeleton  key  was  produced,  and  the 
door  was  opened. 

When  Willie  Gray'  entered  this  tenement  with  the 
officers,  he  was  in  a state  of  excitement  the  like  of 
which  he  had  never  known  before. 

The  strangeness  of  this  affair  was  pressing  upon  him 


Willie  Gray’s  Adventure.  175 

more  and  more  strongly.  He  had  begun  to  be  a prey 
to  a kind  of  panic  terror. 

He  knew  that  his  mother  had  entered  that  house. 
Mrs.  Manahan  admitted  having  seen  her,  and  said  that 
she  had  gone  away. 

That  had  been  proved  to  be  false.  Then  she  must 
still  be  in  the  house. 

Bat,  if  so,  where?  And  why  did  she  not  appear? 

When  Willie  had  been  convinced  that  she  had  not 
gone  out  by  the  back  way,  he  immediately  concluded 
that  she  had  visited  some  other  person  than  Mrs.  Mana- 
han. 

But  on  his  way  up  he  had  seen  the  occupants  of  all 
the  tenements  at  their  doors.  They  had  been  questioned 
by  tbe  police.  If  Mrs.  Gray  had  been  at  that  time 
with  any  family  in  that  house,  her  presence  would  al- 
most certainly  have  been  discovered. 

There  was  a mystery  here  which  frightened  the  lad, 
though  he  was  possessed  of  splendid  nerve. 

Mrs.  Manahan’s  rooms  were  very  bare.  There  were 
three  of  them.  — » 

One  was  evidently  a workroom.  It  contained  the 
things  which  a washerwoman  would  find  necessary. 

“E  very  body  takes  in  washing  in  this  building,  ” re- 
marked one  of  the  policemen.  “That’s  why  it’s  called 
‘Soapsuds  Hall.’  ” 

They  glanced  through  the. rooms.  All  seemed  to  be 
empty. 

The  policemen  opened  the  doors  of  three  small  closets, 
but  discovered  no  one. 

“Reddy  isn’t  hidden" here, ” said  one  of  the  officers, 
as  be  flung  open  thojast  of  the  closet  doors. 

Young  Gray,  who  was  just  behind  him,  uttered  a 

loud  cry. 

“Those  things  are  my  mother’s!” 


he  exclaimed ; 


Willie  Gray’s  Adventure. 


and,  darting  by  the  officer,  be  snatched  from  the  closet 
a*  lady’s  hat  and  cape. 

“ Well,  they  evidently  don’t  belong  to  anybody  who 
lives  here,”  said  the  ward  man.  “They  cost  too  much 
money.” 

Willie  had  taken  them  to  the  window,  the  ward  man 
following. 

“They’re  hers!”  cried  the  boy. 

“Let  me  look  at  that  cape,”  said  the  officer,  in  a 
peculiar  tone.  ^ 

He  took  it  from  the  boy’s  hand. 

“What  do  you  call  this?”  he  said  in  a low  tone  to 
one  of  the  policeman. 

“Blood!”  exclaimed  the  policeman,  “and  recently 
shed.  Why,  it’s  not  dry  yet!” 


i 


*77 


Strange  Conduct  of  Mr.  Gray. 

> 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  STRANGE  CONDUCT  OF  MR.  GRAY. 

“We’ve  tumbled  onto  a queer  case,”  said  the  ward 
man.  “In  the  face  of  this,  I can’t  fool  away  my  time 
on  Reddy  Gallagher.  Search  the  house  thoroughly 
from  top  to  bottom. 

“If  you  find  Gallagher,  take  him  to  the  station;  but 
don’t  stop  the  search.  We  must  find  out  what’s  be- 
come of  Mrs.  Gray. 

“If  Mrs.  Manahan  has  been  stopped  at  the  door,  send 
her  up;  but  not  too  soon.  I want  to  look  around  here 
first.” 

Willie  had  been  thunderstruck  by  the  finding  of  his 
mother’s  garments  in  that  room ; and  that  later  and 
most  terrible  discovery  of  the  blood  upon  the  cloak, 
had,  for  the  moment,  deprived  him  of  speech  or  motion. 

As  the  policemen  hurried  away  to  make  their  search, 
he  recovered  possession  of  his  faculties.  He  sprang 
toward  the  ward  officer  who  was  still  closely  examining 
the  cloak. . ^ 

The  blood  stains  were  small  and  few  in  number,  but 
they,  were  perfectly  distinct.  There  could  be  no  doubt 
that  several  drops  of  blood  had  fallen  upon  the  garment. 

“She  has  been— hurt!”  he  cried. 

He  would  not  speak  the  word  that  came  into  his 
mind.  He  could  not  bear  even  to  think  of  his  mother 
as  the  victim  of  an  assassin. 

The  ward  officer,  Stephen  Burke,  laid  the  cloak  down 


t 78  Strange  Conduct  of  Mr.  Gray. 

upon  a chair  carefully,  so  that  the  blood  stains  would 
not  come  in  contact  with  anything.  ^ 

Then  he  hastily  searched  the  room.  There  was, 
scarcely  anything  of  value  in  it;  but  in  one  of  the 

t 0 

drawers  of  a rude  dressing  table  were  some  clothing  of 
the  washerwoman’s.  , 

The  policeman  pulled  it  about  without  any  definite 
object.  Something  clinked  heavily  on  the  bottom  of 
the  drawer. 

Burke  plunged  his  hands  under  the  clothing,  and 
drew  out  a lady’s  gold  watch,  and  a small  purse  with 
silvei  clasps.  ...  - .. 

“My  mother’s!”  gasped.the  lad,  with  pallid  lips. 

‘“This  looks  mighty  bad,”  said  the  officer. 

He  opened  the  purse.  It  contained  over  a hundred 
dollars. 

Burke  put' the  articles  into  his  pocket,  and  continued 
his  search  of  the  room.  He  discovered  nothing  else 
which  seemed  to  have  any  bearing  on  the  case. 

As  he  finished  the  search,  Mrs.  Manahan,  accom- 
panied by  a policeman,  appeared  at  the  door. 

A second  policeman  followed,  and  announced  to 
Burke,  in  a low  voice,  that  Gallagher  had  been  caught 
hiding  in  a room  on  the  fifth  floor,  and  had  been  sent  to 
the  station. 

The  remainder  of  the  house  had  been  searched,  but 
no  trace  of  Mrs^-Gray  had  been  found. 

“It’s  a certainty  that  she  came  in  here,  though,”  he 
whispered.  “Our  man  on  the  avenue  saw  her.  He 
corroborates  the  boy’s  story.  There’s  a woman  on  this 
floor  who  saw  Mrs.  Gray  come  out  along  this  hall,  but 
didn’t  see  her  enter  this  tenement.” 

“But  Mrs.  Manahan  admits  that  she  came  in  here!” 
exclaimed  Willie,  who  had  pressed  up  behind  Burke 
and  overheard  the  policeman’s  report. 


1 79 


Strange  Conduct  of  Mr.  Gray. 

’ . , ‘ , , 

“Mrs.  Manahan  admits  nothin’,”  said  the  washer- 
woman. “What’s  all  this  fuss  about,  Oi’d  loike  to 
know?  Oi’m  an  honest,  hard-workin’  woman,  Oi  am, 
an’  the  loikes  av  yez  ha  no  roight  in  me  apartmints.” 

“Look  here,  Mrs.  Manahan,”  said  Burke,  “this  is  a 
mighty  serious  matter,  and  you’re  very  foolish  to  allow 
it  to  go  any  further  without  an  explanation. 

“This  lady  was  seen  to  come  to  this  house.  It’s 
known  that  she  came  to  see  you.  She’d  been  here  often 
before. 

“Now  she’s  disappeared  as  mysteriously  as  ever  I 
knew  any  person  to  vanish.  Some  of  her  property  has 
been  found  in  your  rooms." 

“There’s  her  cloak,  with  blood  on  it.  Here’s  her 
purse,  found  hidden  in  that  drawer.  Catch  her,  Rear- 
don! she’s  fainting.  ” 

Indeed,  the  sturdy  washerwoman  was  tottering  as  if 
she  would  fall.  But  she  recovered  before  the  police- 
man could  reach  her  side. 

She  put  out  a strong  arm  and  repelled  him. 

“Let  me  alone,  ye  brute!”  she  said.  “Oi’m  all 
roight.  An’  yfr  needn’t  question  me,  nayther.  Oi 
know  youse  an’  your  ways.  Ye’ll  testify  ag’in  me  if 
Oi  talks  to  ye.  Not  a word  will  Oi  say  till  Oi’ve  seen 
a lawyer.”  - 

“Well,  this  beats  me,”  muttered  the  warCp man. 
“I’ll  be  hanged  if  I understand  this  business  at  all.. 

“Why,  Mrs.  Manahan,”  he  continued,  raising  his 
voice,  “you’re  crazy.  Don’t  you  know  that  I’ll  have 
to  arrest  yon  for  murder?’  ’ 

“Do  it  thin,  j7e  loon !”  cried  the  woman ; “an’  don’t 
talk  so  much  about  it.” 

That  was  the  last  words  she  could  he  induced  to 
speak. 

She  maintained  an  absolute  silence  as  she  was  led 

away. 


180  Strange  Conduct  of  Mr.  Gray. 

Willie  Gray  turned  to  the  ward  man. 

“X  must  go  to  my  father,”  he  said;  and  was  about 
to  leave  the  room. 

“Hold  on,”  rejoined  Burke.  “X  can’t  let  you  go. 
For  all  I can  see,  you’re  in  it  as  deep  as  the  woman.” 


“ What  do  you  mean?” 

“Why,  it’s  like  this:  I’m  convinced  that  one  of  the 


v — 

most  devilish  and  mysterious  crimes  on  record  has  been 
committed  in  this  house. 

“There’s  been  violence,  and  there’s  been  blood  shed. 
:Kow,  you’ve  been  found  here  with  a wound  in  your 
head.  How  did  you  get  it? 

“You  t#ll  a plausible  story;  hut  what  do  1 know 
about  it?  I found  you  trying  to  get  away,  and  you 
made  a desperate  push  for  it. 

“You  may  be  all  right,  and  your  story  may  be 
straight;  but  I don’t  know.  Who  was  the  woman  who 
has  disappeared?  Are  you  her  son?  What  were  you 
both  here  for?  j 

“I’ve  only  your  word  for  any  of  it;  and  these  ques- 
tions have  got  to  be  answered  by  goodtf&vidence  before 
I take  my  eyes  off  you,  my  young  friend.” 

“Arrested  for  my  mother’s  murder!”  groaned  the 
« boy,  and  he  sank  into  a chair. 

It  a situation  that  might  have  frightened  a timid 
boy  out  of  bis  wits;  but  Willie  Gray  was  not  that  kind  j 
of  a boy. 

*He  was  a lad  of  great  nerve,  and  he  proved  it  onihis 
trying  occasion.  For  a minute  or  more  he  sat  with  his 
face  buried  in  his  hands.  When  he  raised  his  head,  he 
looked  the.  officer  straight  in  the  eye,  with  calmness  and  J 
determination. 

“You  will  take  me  to  the  station?”  he  said.  “Very  j 
well.  There  are  two  things  that  must  be  done  before 
that,  and  Jkihink  you  will  not  object  to  either  of  them. 


Strange  Conduct  of  Mr.  Gray.  181 

3{The  first  is  to  send  a message  to  my  father.” 

“By  all^means,”  said  Burke. 

“The  second  is  to  secure  the  services  of  Nick  Carter 
in  this  case.  ” 

“You  can’t  do  better  than  that.  I’d  he  glad  to  see 
him  take  hold  of  it,  and,  when  he  knows  the  facts,  I be- 
lieve he’ll  come.” 

The  two  messages  were  sent  while  Burke  and  his 
prisoner  were  on  the  way  to  the  station.  The  house 
where  the  mysterious  affair  had  occurred,  was  left, 
meanwhile,  under  guard  of  the  police. 

The  famous  detective  happened  to  be  at  home  when 
Willie  Gray’s  note  was  brought  to  the  house. 

He  lost  no  time  in  getting  to  the  station,  for  the  facts, 
as  briefly  stated,  interested  him. 

He  found  the  boy  in  the  police  captain’s  room,  under- 
going examination.  Nick  was  put  in  possession  of  all 

the  facts  known  to  the  reader. 

\ 

“What’s  been  done?”  he  asked. 

“Nothing,”  was  the  reply.  “We  have  waited  for 
you.”  “Call  Burke.” 

The  ward  man  was  summoned. 

“Where  were  you  stationed,”  said  Nick,  “while  you 
were  watching  foj*  Gallagher  to  enter  that  house?” 

“I  was  hidden  in  a jag  of  the  wall  of  the  alley,  near 
the  door  of  the  tenement  house.” 

“Could  you  see  into  the  door?” 

“Not  far.” 

“There’s  a cellar  under  the  house?” 

“Yes.” 

“Could  you  see  the  head  of  the  stairway  leading 
down  to  the  cellar?” 

“No.” 

“ Then  a person  might  have  gone  down  there  unseen 
by  you.” 


{ 


i$2  Strange  Conduct  of  Mr.  Gray. 

“Yes.”  v . ' 

“What  sort  of  a floor  has  the  cellar?” 

“Earth.” 

“Was  it, examined?” 

“Not  carefully,  as  yet.” 

“I  see  your  drift,”  said  the  captain.  “You  think 
that  the  woman  was  decoyed  to  the  house,  murdered  in 
Mrs.  Manahan’s  room,  and  that  her  bod}’  was  buried 
in  the  cellar.  ” 

“It’s  worth  investigating.  If  such  a crime  was 
committed,  it  is  certain  that  the  body  is  now  in  the 
house;  and  it  must  be  found.” 

“Attend  to  it,  Burke,  if  Mr.  Carter  has  no  further 
questions.” 

“I  have  one.  Mrs.  Manahan  was  carrying  a large 
basket  when  she  attempted  to  leave  the  house. What 
was  in  it?”  * 

“A  gentleman’s  washing — clean  clothes  that  she  was 
returning.” 

“Whose  clothes?” 

“She  refused  to  say.” 

“Weren’t  they  marked?” 

“That’s  one  on  me.  I forgot  to  look.  The  point 
didn’t  seem  to  be  important.  But  the  basket,  with  the 
clothes,  is  here.” 

“Bring  it.” 

It  was  brought.  Nick  looked  at  the  clothes, 

“Only  initials,”  he  said.  “ *M.  P.  B.’  Captain, 
have  one  of  your  men  look  through  the  B’s  in  the  direc- 
tory for  those  initials.  This  man  is  rich  and  a bache- 
lor. Note  especially  addresses  of  clubs  or  bachelor 
apartment  buildings.” 

The  necessary  order  wras  given. 

“What  is  known  of  Mrs.  Manahan  in  that  house?” 
“Almost  nothing.  She  doesn’t  have  much  to  do 


f ' l . * T i \ 


Strange  Conduct  of  Mr.  Gray.  183 

with  her  neighbors.  She  sticks  to  her  rooms.  Some- 
times they  don't  see  her  for  a fortnight  at  a time.” 

“Let  me  see  the  garments  found  in  the  room.*’ 

They  .were  handed  to  him,  and  he  spent  some  time  in 
looking  at  them.  The  men  who  had  been  at  work  on 
the  directory  then  made  their  report. 

To  everybody’s  surprise,  it  was  discovered  that  there 
was  only  one  man  mentioned  in  the  directory  who  an- 
swered the  conditions. 

He  was  Merton  P.  Benedict,  broker,  with  rooms  in 
the  Union  Club  building.  Of  course,  the  initials  were 
repeated  many  times,  but  in  every  case  but  Benedict’s, 
it  was  possible  to  exclude  the  person  from  the  investi- 
gation in  hand. 

1 At  this  point,  Nick’s  researches  were  interrupted  by 
the  arrival  of  Mr.  Gray. 

He  was  greatly  excited,  as  was  natural  under  the 
circumstances.  The  note  from  his  son  had  put  him  in 
possession  of  the  essential  facts  in  the  case. 

Gray  was  a lean  and  nervous  man,  not  much  over 
forty,  but  seeming  much  older,  with  his  scanty,  griz- 
zled hair,  and  deeply  wrinkled  forehead.  He  was  ex- 
pensively, but  not  correctly,  dressed,  and  his  manner, 
even  making  all  allowances,  was  not  quite  that  of  a 
gentleman. 

“This  is  all  nonsense!”  he  exclaimed.  “You’ve 
made  a great  fuss  about  nothing.  Mrs.  Gray  is  safe 
and  well.  This  poor  woman  should  be  released.” 

“Where  is  Mrs.  Gray?”  asked  Nick. 

Where  is  she?  Well,  it’s  nobody’s  business;  but  1 
don’t  mind  telling  you  that  she’s  in  Brooklyn,  visiting 
our  relatives.  ’ ’ 

“How  do  you  know?” 

“By  this,”  said  Gray  ; and  he  took  an  envelope  from 

his  pocket 


184  Strangle  Conduct  of  Mr.  Gray. 

Drawing  a note  from  the  envelope,  he  handed  it  to 
Nick,  who  read  as  follows: 

“Friday*  four  o'clock. 

“Dearest:  I am  going  to  Brooklyn  to  drive  with 
Ned  and  Alice.  Ned  will  come  hack  with  me  in  the 
evening.  Au  re  voir. 

- “Charlotte." 

' V. 

“There:  you  seeP  This  was  written  after  this  absurd 
affair  wa^  all  over.  ’ * 

“William,"  said  Nick  to  young  Gray,  who,  of 
course,  was  overjoyed  at  this  news  of  his  mother's 
safety,  “I  wish  you  would  go  out  into  the  other  room 
and  ask  the  sergeant  to  bring  Mrs.  Manahan  from  her 
cell.  Tell  him  to  wait  till  I call  for  her,  and  you  wait 
with  him." 

Willie  hurried  away,  and  Nick,  after  the  door  was 
shut,  turned  to  the  captain. 

“This  case  gets  darker  at  every  step,"  he  said.  “It 
was  bad  enough  before,  but  what  can  we  think  of  it 
now?" 

“I  should  think  it  was  all  cleared  up." 

“Not  at  all.  We  now  have  a new  problem.  It  is 
this:  Why  does  Mr.  Gray  come  here  and  assert  that 

bis  wife  is  in  Brooklyn,  with  friends,  when  he  knows 
she  is  not?" 

Gray  sprang  to  his  feet  His  face  was  pale. 

“I  demand  an  explanation  of  this  outrageous  abor- 
tion !"  he  cried. 

“Don’t  speak  so  loud.  Your  son  may  hear.  I sent  ~ 
him  away  to  spare  him. 

“And  now  to  the  point.  Mr.  Gray,  we  are  not  chil- 
dren. Why  do  you  come  and  attempt  to  pass  off  such 
a note  as  this  upon  experienced  men? 

^“Yoti  say  it  was  written  since  your  wife’s  mysterious 


btrange  Conduct  of  Mr.  Gray.  185 

disappearance.  I tell  you  that  it  was  not  written  this 
week,  probably  not  this  month. 

‘‘I  am  entirely  familiar,  sir,  with  the  ink  with  which 
this  is  written.  It  does  not  assume  this  deep  black 
color  inside  of  three  days. 

“It  is  certain,  then,  that  you  have  attempted  to  im- 
pose upon  us  wTith  a note  written  by  your  wife  on  some 
other  occasion,  and  happening  to  bear  date  on  this  day 
of  the  week.  „ 

“You  have  clumsily  altered  the  hour,  but  that  does 
not  matter.  I should  have  detected  the  fraud  without 
that. 

“And  in  view  of  all  the  facts  in  the  case,  I think  that 
your  conduct  in  attempting  this  imposition  is  sufficiently 
suspicious  to  warrant  your  arrest.” 


t 

4 


/ 


V 


i86  In  the  Rooms  of  Broker  Benedict, 


CHAPTER  II L 

IN  THE  ROOMS  OF  BROKER  BENEDICT. 

“I BEGIN  to  see  through  this  business,”  said  the  cap- 
tain, sternly.  “There’s  a conspiracy  here  for  the  re- 
moval of  this  woman.  Gray,  you  are  under  arrest.” 

Gray  ground  his  teeth  with  rage. 

4 ‘Cursed  luck!”  he  muttered.  “The  devil  himself  is 
in  this!” 

“We  do  not  wish  to  be  harsh,”  said  Nick.  “For 
the  present,  we  shall  not  permit  the  facts  of  this  case  to 
gain  publicity. 

“Your  own  conduct  will  determine  our  action,  I 
shall  ask  you  now  to  leave  the  room,  in  charge  of  the 
captain,  and  to  passively  obey  his  orders. 

“That  is  the  way  to  avoid  scandal,  and  to  spare  your 
boy — who,  by  the  way,  is  a fine  fellow,  and  worth  the 
trouble.” 

As  he  spoke,  Nick  made  a secret  sign  to  the  police 
captain. 

That  officer  instantly  rose,  and  motioned  Gray  to  ac- 
company him  out  of  the  room. 

Gray  sullenly  obeyed. 

They  went  out  into  the  main  room  of  the  station, 
where  Mrs.  Manahan  was  waiting  to  be  sent  into  the 
private  office  where  the  great  detective  sat  alone.  _ 

The  captain  gave  the  order,  and  she  was  obliged  to 
go  in,  though  she  protested,  in  her  richest  brogue,  that 
it  was  no  use  asking-her  any  more  questions. 


In  the  Rooms  of  Broker  Benedict.  187 

For  nearly  twg  hours  they  all  awaited  the  result  of 
Nick’s  examination. 

Meanwhile  a report  came  from  Burke  to  the  effect 
that  traces  of  recent  disturbance  of  the  earthen  floor  of 
the  tenement-house  cellar  had  been  discovered,  and  that 
there  seemed  to  be  every  chance  that  their  search  would 
be  grimly  rewarded. 

And  then  came  a surprise,  the  most  complete  that 
could  have  overtaken  the  experienced  captain  of  police; 
and  it  was  not  less  overwhelming  to  Gray,  if  one  might 
judge  from  the  expression  of  his  countenance. 

A carriage  was  driven  rapidly  up  to  the  door. 

A woman  alighted  and  entered  the  station.  - 

She  raised  the  thick  veil  which  covered  her  face, 

‘ Charlotte!”  exclaimed  Gray. 

“Mother!”  cried  the  boy,  and,  overcome  with  jo3%  he 
threw  his  arms  around  her  neck  while  the  tears  ran 
down  his  cheeks. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  he  bad  not  seen  the  note 
which  his  father  had  brought.  He  had  only  his  father’s 
statement  thatJMrs.  Gray  was  alive,  and  in  his  heart  he 
had  believed  that  his  father  was  mistaken. 

He  had  the  evidence  of  his  own  eyes  that  his  mother 
had  entered  that  tenement  house,  and  he  could  not 
understand  how  it  was  possible  for  her  to  have  left  it. 

“You  have  a woman  here,”  said  Mrs.  Gray  to  the 
captain,  “under  arrest,  on  suspicion  of  having  robbed 
and  murdered  me.  You  see  that  I have  not  been  mur- 
dered, and  I give  you  my  word  that  I have  not  been 
robbed.  Therefore,  I ask  her  release.” 

“Well,  this  beats  me!”  exclaimed  the  captain,  un- 
consciously repeating  the  words  of  his  ward  man. 

He  opened  the  door  of  the  private  office*  and  called 
to  Nick.  “We  can  let  Mrs.  Manahan  go,”  he  said; 
“Mrs.  Gray  is  here:” 


1 88  In  the  Rooms  of  Broker  Benedict. 


The  detective  was  comfortably  tilted  back  in  a chair, 
smoking  a cigar,  and  reading  a newspaper. 

There  was  nobody  eiseHn  the  room.  • 

44 1 have  already  released  her,”  he  said.  “I  learned 
the  facts  regarding  Mrs,  Gray,  and  so  I gave  the  old 
woman  her  basket  and  let  her  go*  She  went  out  by 
the  private  way.” 

He  tossed  his  cigar  into  the  grate,  and  followed  the 
captain  into  the  outer  office. 

4 6 Mr.  Gray,”  he  said,  44I  want  you  and  your  son  to 
go  at  once  to  the  elevated  station  and  get  home  as 
quickly  as  you  can.  You  will  follow  my  advice,  if  you 
are  wise.” 

He  looked  keenly  into  Gray’s  face.  It  was  a glance 
which  always  secures  obedience. 

Then  he  turned  to  Mrs.  Gray. 

44  Allow  me  to  see  you  to  your  carriage,”  he  said, 

4 4 Wait  for  me  at  home,”  she  said  to  her  husband  and 
her  son;  and  then  walked  out  of  the  station  with  Nick. 

Half  an  hour  later,  the  great  detective  sat  in  the 
rooms  of  Broker  M.  P.  Benedict. 

64 1 have  been  engaged  in  a case  this  afternoon  and 
evening,”  he  was  saying,  4 4 which  affects  somebody 
you  know.  I refer  to  Mrs.  Manahan.” 

44 A very  estimable  woman,”  said  the  broker.  44I 
hope  no  harm  has  come  to  her.  ” 

44  As  to  that,  you  shall  be  the  judge,  after  you  have 
seen  her.  If  I am  not  mistaken,  she  is  at  the  door.” 
There  was  a knock.  The  broker  called: 

44Come  in.” 

The  door  opened,  and  Mrs.  Gray  entered. 

She  was  followed  by  a servant  carrying  a large 
basket.  He  set  it  down,  and  left  the  room. 

4 4 Here  is  your  - laundry,  Mr.  Benedict,”  said  the 
woman,  in  a voice  choked  with  embarrass-  meat. 


In  the  Rooms  of  Broker  Benedict.  189 

“I — I beg  your  pardon!”  cried  the  broker,  starting 
back.  “ I dcn’t  think  I have  the  honor  of  your  ac- 
quaintance.” 

“This  is  Mrs.  Manahan,”  said  the  detective. 

“Mr.  Carter,  upon  my  word,  sir,  what  does  this 
mean?”  stammered  Benedict. 

“It  means  that  I have  stumbled  upon  a strange  sfoay. 
I will  tell  it  to  you.  Pray  be  seated,  Mrs.  Gray.  It  is 
not  new  to  you,  but  it  is  necesary  that  you  should  hear 
it.  ~ 

“Years  ago,  Mr.  Benedict,  you  employed  a woman, 
named  Mrs.  Manahan,  to  do  your  washing.  Mrs. 
Gray,  whose  husband  was  then  a poor  man,  knew  this 
Mrs.  Manahan,  and  was  kind  to  her.  / 

‘/One  day,  Mrs.  'Manahan  was  ill,  and  Mrs.  Gray, 
like  the  excellent  woman  that  she  is,  volunteered  to  do 
the  other’s  work.  It  consisted,  principally,  of  your 

laundrv,  Mr.  Benedict. 

«./  / * 

“When  she  went  home  that  night,  Mrs.  Gray  men- 
tioned to  her  husband — who  was  then  employed  in  a 
broker’s  office  at  a miserable  salary — that-  a certain  Mr. 
Benedict  had  a queer  habit  of  making  figures  with  a 
pencil  all  over  his  cuffs. 

“Mr.  Gray  has  an  intelligence  which  is  sharper  than 
the  point  of  a cambric  needle.  When  he  heard  what 
his  wife  said,  he  saw  what  few  other  men  would  have 
seen ; that  those  figures  on  your  cuffs  were  a fortune  to 
anybody  who  could  read  them  aright. 

“The  next  time  Mrs.  Manahan  brought  home  your 
soiled  clothes,  Mrs.  Gray  was  there.  She, cleverly  ab- 
stracted the  cuffs  with  the  figures  on  them,  and  Carried 
them  to  her  husband,  who  made  an  accurate  copy  of 
them, 

“He  saw  that  they  were  calculations  of  the  advance 
of  certain  stocks,  and  that  they  indicated  the  course  of 


190  In  the  Rooms  of  Broker  Benedict. 

operations  which  you  were  about  to  make  upon  the 
exchange. 

“Mrs.  Gray  succeeded  in  returning  the  cuffs  to  Mrs. 
Manahan’s  room,  and  neither  she  nor  you  knew  that 
they  had  been  seen  by  anybody  else. 

“Meanwhile,  Mr.  Gray  raked  and  scraped  all  the 
money  he  could  get  together,  and  speculated  on  your 
tips.  He  won. 

“This  habit  of  figuring  on  your  cuffs,  as  you  ride 
up  and  down  town,  is  an  old  07ie  with  you.  I wonder 
if  you  borrowed  it  from  that  other  well-known  broker 
whose  washerwoman  died  a dozen  years  ago,  worth 
eighty  thousand  dollars,  made  in  the  same  way  as  Mr. 
Gray’s  money  has  been  made.” 

“I  never  heard  of  it,”  said  Benedict. 

“That’s  curious.  It  was  in  the  papers.  Well,  to 
proceed,  shortly  after  Gray’s  first  operation,  Mrs. 
Manahan  died  suddenly.  “Here  was  a great  mis- 
fortune. The  supply  of  tips  threatened  to  be  cut  off. 

“But  the  Grays  were  equal  to  the  emergency.  I 
need  not  tell  you  now  that  since  that  time,  Mrs.  Gray 
has  personated  Mrs.  Manahan. 

“She  has  done  your  washing  every  week.  For  the 
remainder  of  the  time  she  has  lived  the  life  of  a rich 
wokman, 

“Extremely  cautious,  she  has  always  carried  out  the 
details  of  the  plot.  She  has  had  a tenement  in  the  so- 
called  4 Soapsuds  Hail,’  and  has  actually  spent  a small 
part  of  her  time  there  in  order  that  the  neighbors  might 
be  deceived. 

“Of  course,  the  two  entrances  to  the  house  favored 
the  work.  Mrs.  Gray  was  seen  to  arrive  there.  She 
was  supposed  to  come  on  a charitable  mission. 

“The  tenants  who  saw  her  come  in,  and  didn’t  see 
her  go  out,  supposed  that  she  had  used  the  other  door. 


In  the  Rooms  of  Broker  Benedict.  191 

— \. 

“For  years,  this  has  been  going  on;  but  this  after- 
noon, by  an  extraordinary  series  of  coincidences,  the 
secret  was  lost.” 

He  then  described  the  adventure  of  Willie  Gray. 

“It  certainly  looked  like  a murder,”  he  continued. 
“There  was  the  blood,  for  instance,  which,  of  course, 
really  came  from  the  boy’s  wound.  He  was  so  excited 
that  he  did  not  notice  that  it  dripped  upon  the  cape. 

“I  do  not  wonder  that  Burke  was  deceived.  The 
only  surprising  thing — outside  of  the  pure  chance  of  the 
encounter  with  your  eon — was  your  extraordinary 
nerve,  Mrs.  Gray,  and  the  skill  with  which  you  played 
your  part. 

“Of  course,  you  were  utterly  desperate  in  your  deter- 
mination that  he  should  not  read  your  secret.  It  was 
that  which  carried  you  through. 

“Well,  I think  he  need  not  know  it.  When  I dis- 
covered the  secret  of  her  disguise  in  the  station  house, 
Mr.  Benedict,  I stipulated  only  that  you  should  be 
informed. 

“She  agreed  ; and  I let  her  out  by  the  private  way. 
She  hurried  to  her  house,  were  she  procured  the  neces- 
sary hat  and  outer  garment,  and  then  she  appeared  as 
Mrs.  Gray  at  the  station.  “Now,  my  duty  is  done.  I 
shall  make  no  disclosures.” 

“There  is  nothing  that  I can  say,”  said  Mrs.  Gray, 
“except  that  this  is  all  true.  I can  only  ask  your 
pardon.  ’ ? 

Benedict  was  pacing  the  floor  with  a grim  smile. 

“Will  you  ask  your  husband  to  come  and  see  me  to- 
morrow?” he  said,  at  last.  “I  have  felt  for  some  time 
that  I needed  a partner,  but  I have  doubted  whether 
there  was  a man  on  earth  who  was  smart  enough  to  fill 
the  bill.” 


END. 


\ 


A 


LAWYER  AGAINST  DETECTIVE. 


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I-—'  -v.  :,:i 


LAWYER  AGAINST  DETECTIVE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

f 

A SURPRISE  IN  COURT. 

“Benjamin  Hope  to  the  bar!”  , 

Thus  spoke  the  clerk  in  General  Sessions,  and  at  his 
summons  a prisoner  stepped  forward. 

He  was  a young  man,  rather  flashily  dressed,  and  his 
face  W8s  not  a good  one.  He  had  the  small,  restless 
eyes,  the  prominent  cheek  bones,  and  the  sunken  tem- 
ples which  mark  the  habitual  criminal. 

Not  the  sort  of  man  to  excite  sympathy,  one  would 
say;  and  yet  there  is  always  something  pathetic  in  the 
spectacle  of  the  human  animal  brought  to  bay,  and 
waiting  for  the  stroke  of  the  sword  of  justice. 

Upon  this  prisoner  the  afternoon  sun,  striking  a 
window  aslant,  cast  a barred  shadow  from  the  sash,  as 
if  the  light  fell  through  a grated  prison  window. 

Glancing  down,  he  noticed  the  effect  upon  his  light 
coat,  and  he  moved  aside  to  escape  it,  with  something 
like  a shudder. 

The  indictment  was  read.  It  charged  the  offense  of 
burglary. 

The  judge  upon  the  bench  had  the  reputation  of  gfv^ 
ing  long  sentences  for  that  crime.  It  was  the  opinion 
of  the  court  officers  that  a man  with  as  bad  a record  as 
Benny  Hope’s  might  expect  ten  years. 

Tha.+  a long  time  in  prison.  To  Benny  Hope  it 


196  A Surprise  in  Court. 

meant  the  forfeiture  of  what  remained  to  him  of  youth 
— a heavy  price,  however  grave  the  crime. 

The  assistant  district  attorney,  Mr.  Hartmann,  made 
a brief  address,  after  a plea  of  not  guilty  had  been 
entered. 

“This  young  man,”  he  said,  “has  been  a criminal 
from  boyhood.  He  has  always  been  a thief. 

“The  law  has  hitherto  dealt  lightly  with  him.  He 
has  been  arrested  many  times,  but  has  suffered  only  two 
short  terms  of  imprisonment. 

“The  mercy  which  his  youth  might  inspire  has  al- 
ready been  rendered.  This  is  the  hour  for  stem  justice. 

“His  crime  stopped  little  short  of  murder.  Let  me 
sketch  its  principal  features,  and  you  shall  judge  of  its 
gravity. 

“On  the  night  of  September  24th,  of  this  year,  he 
burglariously  entered  the  house  of  a wealthy  and  re- 
spected citizen,  the  Hon.  Morton  B.  Chester.  He  had 
obtained  information  regarding  a large  sum  of  money 
which  Mr.  Chester  had  drawn  from  a bank  a few  days 
before. 

“This  sum  he  knew  to  be  deposited  in  a small  safe 
in  a room  adjoining  the  sleeping  apartment  of  Mr. 
Chester.  He  gained  entrance  to  the  house  by  means  of 
a window,  and  reached  the  room  in  which  the  safe 
stood,  without  arousing  any  person. 

“The  safe  he  opened  by  means  of  burglar’^  tools, 
which  were  subsequently  found  beside  it.  He  secured 
the  money  for  which  he  had  come. 

“Thus  far  he  had  worked  noiselessly,  but,  with  the 
money  in  his  possession,  he  became  less  .cautious.  His 
movements  aroused  Mr.  Chester,  who  instantly  guessed 
the  cause  of  the  sound  he  heard. 

“He  leaped  from  his  bed,  and  ran  toward  the  adjoin- 
ing room.  The  burglar  heard  him,  and  instantly  ex- 


A Surprise  in  Court.  197 

tinguished  his  lantern,  hoping  to  elude  pursuit  and 
escape  from  the  house  in  the  darkness. 

“There  was,  however,  a gas  jet  in  the  room  which 
could  be  ignited  by  simply  pulling  upon  a little  chain. 
Mr.  Chester  had  sufficient  presence  of  mind  to  light 
this  flame  as  he  ran.  * 

“Instantly  the  room  was  illuminated,  and  Mr.  Ches- 
ter had  a plain  view  of  the  criminal. 

“The  burglar  had  become  confused  in  the  darkness, 
and  had  opened  a closet  door  instead  of  that  which  led 
out  of  the  room. 

“This  mistake  had  delayed  him  so  long,  that  Mr. 
Chester  was  able  to  overtake  and  grapple  with  him. 

“A  short,  but  terrible  struggle  insued.  The  burglar, 
knowing  that  Mr./Chester’s  cries  for  help  would  speed- 
ily bring  assistance,  became  desperate,  and  determined 
to  gain  freedom  even  at  the  price  of  murder. 

“Seizing  a heavy  tool,  which  he  had  used  in  opening 
the  safe,  he  dealt  his  adversary  a dreadful  blow  upon 
the  head. 

“It  is  almost  a miracle  that  that  blow  did  not  prove 
fatal.  It  rendered  Mr.  Chester  completely  unconscious, 

“The  murderous  criminal  escaped,  carrying  with 
him  the  money  for  which  he  had  periled  his  soul. 

“Members  of  Mr.  Chester’s  family,  and  several  of 
his  servants  reached  his  side  almost  immediately  after 
he  fell. 

“The  wounded  man  was  carried  to  his  bed,  and 
medical  aid  was  summoned.  The  injury  was  much 
less  serious,  I am  happy  to  say,  than  the  weight  of  the 
weapon  and  the  murderous  violence  of  the  criminal 
would  naturally  have  made  it. 

“Mr.  Chester  has  recovered,  and  will  appear  as  a* 
witness.  He  has  already  identified  the  prisoner,  Hope. 

“I  shall  also  put  upon  the  stand  a servant,  Mary 


/ 


198  A Surprise  in  Court. 

Baldwin,  who  met  the  burglar  face  to  face  as  he  was 
fleeing  through  a hall  of  the  Chester  residence. 

“This  young  woman  had  known  Hope  well  for  about 
two  years.  It  is  even  reported  that  she  had  been  en- 
gaged to  marry  him,  but  had  broken  with  him  because 
of  bis  character.  4 

“She  recognized  him;  she  gave  his  name  to  the 
police;  she  identified  him  fully  after  his  arrest/5 
“I  object!”  shouted  the  prisoner’s  counsel. 

He  had  uttered  the  protest  a half-dozen  times  while 
the  assistant  district  attorney  had  been  speaking  his 
last  sentence. 

“I  object  to  this  assertion,”  he  continued.  “Have 
you  any  proof  of  it?  Have  you  any  affidavit  from 
her?” 

“We  have  Mary  Baldwin  herself,”  retorted  Hart- 
mann. __ 

“Very  well;  let  her  testify.  But  I object  to  any 
such  assertions  before  she  has  done  so.” 

The  assistant  district  attorney  laughed,  but  inwardly 
he  was  thinking,  “What  the  deuce  does  this  mean? 
Have  they  spirited  her  away?” 

He  looked  around  the  court  room  anxiously.  Mary 
Baldwin  had  not  appeared.  Yet  he  knew  that  she  was 
in  charge  of  an  officer.  He  had  seen  her  only  a few 
hours  before.  Nothing  could  have  happened  to  her. 

“I  waive  the  point,”  he  said  aloud.  “At  any  rate, 
the  prisoner  was  arrested. 

“He  denied  the  crime.  The  money — twenty-two 
thousand,  five  hundred  dollars — has  never  been  traced. 
He  resolutely  refused  to  make  restitution,  though  Mr. 
Chester  offered  to  do  everything  in  his  power  to  secure 
a light  sentence  for  Hope  if  the  money  was  produced. 

“This  is  a bare  summary  of  the  case.  I have  wasted 
bo  words  upon  it,  because  it  is  perfectly  plain. 


i99 


A Surprise  in  Court. 

“You  will  thoroughly  understand  the  facts,  and  your 
duty  in  relation  to  them.  Crimes  of  this  sort  are  the 
most  dangerous  to  the  peace  of  society. 

“I  feel  that  I can  safely  leave  the  punishment  in 
your  hands,  and  in  those  of  the  learned  judge  before 
whom  it  will  now  be  my  duty  to  present  the  case  of  the 
People  against  Benjamin  Hope.” 

The  attorney  sat  down,  and  the  jurymen  looked  at  one 
another  with  an  expression  which  boded  no  good  for  the 
prisoner.  Certainly,  after  such  a statement  of  the 
case,  conviction  seemed  certain.  The  court  officers 
wondered  why  Hope  bad  not  pleaded  guilty. 

Mr.  Hartmann,  after  running  through  some  brief 
memoranda,  arose  for  the  purpose  of  examining  his 
first  witness. 

The  jurymen  assumed  attitudes  of  attention.  The 
prisoner,  with  both  hands  in  his  pockets,  looked  up  at 
the  ceiling  and  smiled  broadly. 

His  nervousness  was  all  gone.  In  spite  of  the  assist- 
ant district  attorney’s  confidence,  and  the  obvious  im- 
pression which  his  address  had  made  on  the  jury,  Hope 
had  gained  in  assurance  every  minute. 

The  officer  who  was  especially  detailed  to  watch  him, 
decided  that  he  was  making  a great  bluff. 

It  may  be  remarked  that  Hope  had  been  out  on  bail 
during  most  of  the  time  since  his  arrest;  but  about  a 
week  before  his  trial  he  had  been  surrendered,  and  he 
had  since  been  in  the  Tombs  prison. 

His  confinement,  therefore,  had  not  been  long  enough 
to  give  him  the  prison  pallor  which  often  imparts  a 
jailbird  look  to  an  innocent  man,  and  works  for  his 
conviction  by  an  average  jury. 

Mr.  Hartmann’s  first  witness  was  Eugene  Allen,  a 
young  man  who  lived  at  Mr.  Chester’s,  and  acted  as  a 
sort  of  secretary. 


200 


A Surprise  in  Court 

He  had  seen  Mr.  Chester  put  the  money  into  the  safe 
late  on  the  evening  previous  to  the  burglary.  He,  with 
several  otter  persons,  ^examined  the  safe  while  the  doc- 
tor was  dressing  Mr.  Chester’s  wound.  The  money 
w7as  gone. 

Allen  had  not  seen  the  burglar.  His  evidence  was 
merely  intended  to  show  the  loss,  and  a few  details  re- 
garding the  appearance  of  the  room,  etc. 

The  lawyer  for  the  defense — a foxy  little  fellow 
named  Steinburg,  well  known  in  the  criminal  courts — 
asked  but  one  question : 

“Do  you,  of  your  own  knowledge,  know  anything 
which  connects  the  prisoner  with  this  crime?’ ’ 

“I  do  not,”  replied  the  witness. 

Hartmann  smiled.  This  looked  like  an  attempt  to 
cast  doubt  upon  the  identification  of  Hope,  which  was 
manifestly  absurd,  as  he  had  been  well  known  to  Mary 
Baldwin,  who  had  just  entered  the  courtroom,  to  the 
attorney’s  great  relief. 

He  called  her  at  once  to  the  stand.  She  took  the 
oath,  and  answered  a few  unimportant  questions. 

“Miss  Baldwin,”  Hartmann  then  said,  “I  want  you 
to  tell  what  you  yourself  know  of  the  burglary  at  the 
house  of  Mr.  Chester.” 

“I  shall  ask  your  honor  to  rule,”  said -Steinburg, 
“that  the  witness  need  not  reply  unless  she  wishes  to 
do  so.” 

“Why  not?”  thundered  Hartmann. 

“Because  she  is  the  wife  of  the  prisoner,”  said  Stein- 
burg blandly. 

“Is  this  true?”  demanded  Hartmann. 

“Yes,  sir,”  replied  the  woman;  “I  married  him 
three  weeks  ago  to-day.  ’ ’ 

“I  have  documentary  and  other  proof  here,”  said 

Steinburg,  ' if  your  honor  desires  to  haTre  it  presented.” 

y 


201 


A Surprise  in  Court. 

The  proofs  were  presented,  and  they  were  entirely 
adequate.  There  was  no  doubt  whatever  that  the  pris- 
oner and  the  chief  witness  against  hing  had  been  mar- 
ried while  the  former  had  been  out  on  bail. 

The  court  officers  looked  at  each  other. 

% 

“That  Steinburg’s  a peach, ” they  whispered.  “No- 
body else  could  have  managed  that.  But  what  can  he 
do  about  Chester?” 

“I  must  inform  you,”  said  the  judge,  to  the  witness, 
“that  you  cannot  be  compelled  to  testify  against  your 
husband  if  you  do. not  wish  to.” 

She  didn’t;  and  that  settled  it.  She  was  permitted 
to  leave  the  stand. 

From  this  temporary  defeat  Hartmann  soon  rallied. 
He  called  Mr.  Chester. 

That  gentleman,  looking  pale  and  iljl,  and  bearing 
upon  his  bald  head  a bad  scar  as  a memento  of  the 
burglary,  took  the  stand  and  described  the  affair  sub- 
stantially in  accord  with  Hartmann’s  opening  state- 
ment. 

Benny  Hope  began  to  be  a trifle  nervous.  Steinburg, 
however,  rubbed  his  hands  and  looked  happy. 

“And  novO',  Mr.  Chester,”  said  Hartmann,  “tell  us 

7 7 e7  <0 

whether  or  not  you  have  seen  the  burglar  since  his 
assault  upon  you.” 

“I  have,”  responded  Chester  faintly. 

He  appeared  to  be  laboring  under  great  excitement, 
and  to  be  scarcely  able  to  go  on  with  his  testimon}\ 

“Look  upon  the  prisoner,  and  tell  us  whether  he  is 
the  man.  ” 

Chester’s 'face  became  paler  still;  his  lips  trembled. 
He  put  his  hands  to  his  head,  as  if  he  was  in  great 
pain. 

His  eyes,  is  tead  of  resting  on  Hope,  rolled,  nerv- 
ously, the  courtroom. 


•202  A Surprise  in  Court. 

“I — I don’t  know,”  he  said  at  last.  “I’d  rather  not 
say  now;  I ” 

The  sentence  ended  in  a groan. 

Hartmann  was  utterly  taken  aback. 

This  meant  acquittal,  in  the  face  of  his  positive  cer- 
tainty that  the  prisoner  was  guilty.  If  Chester’s  iden- 
tification failed,  there  was  nothing  to  put  in  its  place. 

It  was  a serious  peril  to  his  reputation. 

Steinburg,  on  the  contrary,  assumed  an  expression  of 
seraphic  joy,  while  Hope  straightened  up  in  his  chair 
and  adjusted  his  bright  red  tie,  as  if  he  were  already 
preparing  to  leave  the  courtroom  a free  man. 


20$ 


Chester’s  Story. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Chester’s  story. 

£ » > , 

Hartmann  recovered  himself  with  the  ease  of  an  ex- 
perienced lawyer. 

“ Take  a few  minutes  for  thought,  Mr.  Chester,”  he 
said  kindly.  “We  all  sympathize  with  you  in  your 
illness  resulting  from  this  dastardly  crime,  and  I cer- 
tainly have  no  desire  to  press  questions  upon  you  so  fast 
as  to  exhaust  your  strength.” 

It  was  the  best  move  possible  in  that  stage  of  the 
game,  but  it  availed  nothing. 

Mr.  Chester  took  time  to  rest,  by  permission  of  the 
court,  and  his  condition  afterward  was  worse  than 
before. 

A cautious  question  by  Hartmann  convinced  him 
that  Chester  would  not  positively  identify  the  prisoner, 
and  that  the  more  that  was  said  on  that  point  the  more 
doubt  would  be  put  into  the  minds  of  the  jurymen. 

What  had  caused  this  change  in  Chester  was  beyond 
Hartmann’s  power  of  speculation.  The  man  had  been 
absolutely  positive  in  his  identification.  What  could 
have  happened  to  make  him  change  his  opinion? 

“Some  deep  game  of  that  rascal,  Steinburg,”  mut- 
tered Hartmann.  “I  must  secure  delay  and  find  out 
what  it  is.” 

He  had  intended/  to  close  his  case  after  the  examina- 
tion of  Chester.  It  had  seemed  that  no  more  would  be 
needed. 

But  his  two  witnesses  had  broken  down  He  would 


204 


Chester’s  Story. 

be  compelled  to  build  up  his  case  from  its  wreckage. 
Above  all,  he  needed  time. 

He  knew  that  if  he  allowed  the  people’s  case  to  halt, 
Steinburg  would  go  to  the  jury  at  once.  At  any  cost, 
the  case  must  be  extended  as  far  as  possible  into  the 
next  day.  ~ 

That  would  give  time  for  detective  work,  and  Hart- 
mann had  already  resolved  ta^have  Nick  Carter  upon 
the  case  at  the  earliest  possible  moment. 

Another  member  of  the  district  attorney’s  staff  was 
present,  and  Hartmann  charged  him  with  the  urgent 
duty  of  securing  the  great  detective’s  services. 

The  messenger  made  good  speed.  He  found  Nick  at 
his  home.  The  detective,  hearing  the  facts,  at  once 
consented  to  take  the  case. 

The  truth  is  that  Nick  was  very  eager  for  a tussle 
with  Lawyer  Steinburg  He  knew  that  astute  indivi- 
dual well,  and  had  a high  opinion  of  his  cunning,  com- 
bined with  very  deep  contempt  for  his  moral  character. 

The  defeat  of  such  a man,'  if  it  could  be  made  crush- 
ing and  disgraceful,  would  be  not  only  an  interesting 
struggle,  but  a public  service.  Therefore  Nick  went  to 
the  courthouse  with  all  haste, 

Hartmann  meanwhile  bad  been  making  a bold  strug- 
gle against  the  inevitable.  He  had  kept  Chester  on  the 
stand,  and  had  asked  him  countless  questions  about 
minor  points  of  the  case,  with  no  other  object  than  the 
consumption  of  time. 

He  succeeded  in  so  thoroughly  exhausting  the  wit- 
ness, that  the  judge,  in  mercy,  ordered  an  adjournment 
till  the  next  day. 

This  was  what  Hartmann  wanted.  Steinburg  wished 
to  go  on ; and  he  came  so  close  to  persuading  the  judge 
to  hold  an  evening  session  that  Hartmann’s  hair  nearly 
turned  gray  with  anxiety. 


205 


Chester's  Story. 

When*  Nick  arrived,  he  found  the  assistant  district 

7 a 

attorney  almost  in  a state  of  collapse,  and  Mr.  Chester 
much  worse  than  that.  x 

If  anybody  on  earth  knows  how  to  handle  a nervous 
person,  Nick  Carter  is  the  one. 

The  first  thing  he  did  was  to  get  Chester  into  the 
open  air.  The  three  men  took  a walk  together,  and 
Nick  wouldn’t  permit  a word  about  the  case. 

He  talked  of  many  cheerful  things;  got  Chester  inter 
ested  in  spite  of  his  condition,  and  finally  brought  the 
party  to  his  own  house  for  dinner  in  good  spirits. 

After  the  meal  was  disposed  of,  Chester  was  feeling 
comparatively  well. 

“You’re  positively  the  most  enlivening  companion  I 
ever  knew,”  said  he  to  the  detective.  “You’re  so 
strong  in  body  and  mind  that  you  can  afford  to  lend 
strength  to  others. 

“I’m  going  to  lean  on  you,  and  trust  to  you.  I’ll 
tell  you  the  whole  story. 

“Let  me,  at  the  very  beginning,  explain  and  humbly 
apologize  for  my  conduct  to-day.  It  had  a mean  and 
despica ble  motive — fear ! ” 

“Fear!”  exclaimed  Hartmann.  “What  were  you 
afraid  of?  Not  Benny  Hope?” 

“No;  not  of  Benny  Hope,”  said  Chester  gravely, 
“but  of  the  man  who  gave  me  this.” 

He  touched  the  scar  upon  his  head. 

Hartmann  was  speechless. 

“My  hesitation  in  court  to-day,”  continued  Chester, 
“came  from  the  fact  that  I knew  Hope  to  he  innocent, 
and  dared  not  say  so.” 

“Innocent?  Why,  man,  you  were  sure  of  him  two 
days  ago.” 

“So  I was,  and  I am  equally  sure  that  he  is  guilt- 
less,” 


206  Chester's  Story. 

“When  did  this  conviction  come  to  you?” 

“Last  night.  Listen:  I was  awakened  after  mid- 
night by  a bright  light  upon  my  face. 

“I  started  up,  stricken  with  terror  even  before  I had 
shaken  off  the  sound  sleep  in  which  I had  lain. 

“The  room* was  lighted  by  three  jets  of  gas.  Stand- 
ing beside  my  bed  was  a man. 

“As  I started  up,  he  leaned  forward,  grasped  me  by 
the  shoulder  and  pressed  a knife  against  my  throat. 

“ *One  cry,’  he  said,  ‘and  I finish  my  work  with 
you.’  . 

“His  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  wound  in  my  head. 
His  face  was  close  to  mine,  and  in  the  brightly  lighted 
room,  I could  not  mistake  it. 

“That  face  has  haunted  me  for  months.  It  was  the 
face  of  the  man  with  whom  I struggled  months  ago; 
the  man  who  struck  me  down  with  a blow  that,  but 
for  favoring  fortune,  would  have  killed  me.” 

“It  was  the  burglar?”  cried" Hartmann. 

“Yes;  I could  not  mistake  him.  Ah,  gentlemen, 
you  do  not  realize  the  horror  of  that  struggle  in  the 
dead  of  night  which  first  impressed  his  face  upon  my 
memory. 

“You,  Mr.  Hartmann,  have  never  had  the  experi- 
ence; Mr.  Garter  has,  no  doubt,  many  times;  but 
nature  has  granted  him  a courage  which  keeps  out 
fear. 

“Such  an  encounter  Vvould  not  weigh  upon  his  mind; 
but  I can  never  forget  it.” 

“It  seems  to  me  you  contradict  yourself,”  said  Hart* 
mann,  with  a lawyer’s  instinct.  “In  one  breath  you 
say  that  you  have  been  mistaken  in  Benny  Hope,  and 
in  the  next  you  say  that  the  burglar’s  face  has  been 
indelibly  impressed  upon  your  memory.” 

“So  it  has,”  responded  Chester.  “You  overlook  an 


207 


Chester’s  Story. 

essential  tact  of  personal  recognition.  If  you  are  wait- 
ing for  a friend  at  an  appointed  place,  you  see  a dozen 
men  whom,  at  the  first  glance,  you  mistake  for  the 
right  one,  but,  when  he  comes,  you  are  neve*  , in 

doubt.*' 

“That  is  true  of  every  untrained  eye,”  said  Nick. 

“It  was  so  with  me.  Perhaps  it  was  my  very  horror 
of  the  man  which  ~led  me  to  see  his  face  in  Hope’s. 
And  there  is  undoubtedly  a strong — an  amazing — re- 
semblance. 

“But  when  the  right  man  stood  beside  my  bed,  all 
doubt  vanished.  I knew  him  instantly. 

“ ‘You  white-livered  old  wretch !’  he  whispered,  min- 
gling oaths  with  his  abuse.  ‘I’m  dead  onto  you.  I 
know  what  you’re  going  to  do.  But  don’t  you  doit; 
not  for  your  life!’ 

“I  asked  him,  in  terror,  what  it  was  that  he  feared 
I would  do. 

“ ‘I  don’t  fear  anything,’  he  replied;  ‘but  I’m  a 
prudent  man.  I take  no  unnecessary  chances. 

“ ‘This  is  what  you’re  going  to  do;  you’re  going  to 
let  up  on  Benny  Hope.  ’ 

“What  had  given  this  villian  such  an  idea,  I was 
unable  to  guess.  Certainly,  I had  never  had  a thought 
of  wavering  in  my  testimony  against  Hope. 

“But  he  must  have  heard  some  strange,  mistaken 
rumor  among  the  criminals  with  whom  he  doubtless 
haunts.  Perhaps  some  one  who  wished  to  get  him 
out  of  the  way  told  him  that  to  frighten  him  into 
flight.  x 

“ ‘Don’t  you  do  it,’  he  continued.  ‘He’s  got  to  go 
up  the  river  in  order  to  make  me  safe.  And  he's  got 
to  go  in  order  to  make  you  safe,  too.  If  you  fail  to 
fully  identify  him — well,  you  know'  me  now. 

“ ‘Some  night  you’ll  wake  to  find  me  here,  and  the 


20$  Chester's  Story. 

next  thing  you  know  this  knife  will  slit  your  windpipe. 
Do  you  understand?3 

“He  pressed  the  knife  so  hard  against  my  throat  that 
it  cut  through  the  skin,  and  I could  feel  the  blood  trick- 
ling down  my  chest.  Look  here!33 

He  opened  his  collar,  and  showed  a long  cut,  covered 
with  court- plaster. 

“I  am  ashamed  to  tell  what  followed.  I was  abso- 
lutely terror-stricken. 

“I  pledged  myself,  by  every  oath  that  I could  think 
of,  that  I would  never  waver  in  my  evidence  against 
Hope.  Exhausted  by  my  protestations,  I fell  back, 
half  fainting. 

“Instantly  he  slipped  from  the  room.  I had  not  the 
courage  to  raise  an  alarm. 

“But  the  fellow  did  not  escape  unseen.  Half  a min- 
ute after  he  had  left  my  room,  I heard  my  brother’s 
voice  cry : 

“ ‘Who’s  there?’ 

“He  had  heard  a step  in  the  hall.  He  ran  to  his 
door,  and  I got  to  mine  almost  at  the  same  time. 

“We  heard  the  man’s  step  in  the  hall  below,  and 
then  the  closing  of  the  outside  door. 

“My  brother  would  have  raised  an  alarm,  but  I re- 
strained him,  and  also  Mr.  Allen,  who  came  out  of  his 
room  at  the  sound  of  our  voices. 

“To  them  I told  my  story.  I am  ashamed,  for  their 
sakes,  to  say  that,  after  a brief  discussion,  they  came 
toishare  my  opinion,  and  urged  mb,  /or  my  own  per- 
sonal safety,  to  swear  falsely  against  Hope. 

“You  know  the  result;  I could  not  do  it. 

“How  I could  ever  haive  imagined  myself  to  be  capa- 
ble of  such  a crime  is  more  than  I can  now  understand. 

“I  knew  when  I went  on  the  stand  that,  if  pressed 
with  questions^  I should  tell  the  truth. 


209 


Chester's  Story. 

“I  have  done  so  now;  and  I solemnly  declare  to  you 
that  I expect  to  pay  for  it  with  my  life. 

“ Guard  myself  as  I may,  that  man  will  yet  stanr 
beside  me  while  I sleep,  and  I shall  awake  to  meet  death 
at  his  hands/ y 


2io  The  Acquittal, 


CHAPTER  III.  ^ 

THE  ACQUITTAL. 

44  Well,  Nick,  what  have  you  done?” 

It  was  the  morning  of  the  second  day  of  the  trial. 
Assistant  District  Attorney  Hartmann  asked  the  ques- 
tion.' - |||;. 

He  sat  in  a private  room  in  the  courthouse.  Ches- 
ter was  present.  He  had  passed  the  night  in  Nick’s 
house. 

“Nothing  of  any  consequence,”  replied  the  detective. 
Hartmann  groaned. 

64  We  must  go  on  with  the  trial,  I suppose?” 

“Yes.” 

4 4 Mr.  Chester  will  be  called.” 

4 4 Very  well.  dhet  him  tell  his  story.” 

44 But  I can’t  stand  it.  It  will  be  fatal.  The  jpry 
will  acquit.”  ; r 

4 4 Let  them  do  it.”  , } 

“Then  you  think  Hope  innocent?” 

44 1 did  not  say  so.”  v7y t 

“You  realize  that,  if  acquitted,  he  cannot  be  tried 
for  this  crime  again?” 

4 4 Of  course.” 

44  And  you  can’t  help  me  out?” 

“X  can’t.  Let  the  trial  proceed.”  . 

Hartmann  struck  his  forehead  with  his  hands. 

4 4 You  have  disappointed  me,”  he  cried.  “I  expected 
better  things  of  you,  Mr.  Carter.  But  I will  light  it 
out.” 


The  Acquittal.  21  r 

He  arose  and  went  to  the  courtroom,  Chester  follow- 
ing. Nick  remained  seated  in  the  office. 

At  three  o’clock  on  that  afternoon,  Benjamin  Hope 
left  the  courtroom,  a free  man. 

Hartmann,  disconsolate,  and  Chester,  apparently 
much  relieved  in  conscience,  met  the  great  detective  by 
appointment  when  the  trial  was  over. 

‘ ‘I’m  glad  he  is  free.”  said  Chester.  “Now  if  you 
could  only  catch  the  right  man,  Mr.  Carter,  I should 
feel  perfectly  easy  in  my  mind.  As  it  is,  I look  upon 
myself  as  a doomed  man.” 

“Look  here,  Carter,”  said  Hartmann,  facing  Nick; 
“tell  me,  like  a good  fellow,  what  you  really  believed. 
Is  Mr.  Chester’s  story  true,  or  did  he  have  the  night- 
mare?” 

“It  would  be  a little  singular  if  Mr.  Chester’s  brother 
and  Mr.  Allen  shared  in  that  nightmare.  I have  seen 
them  ' both.  There  is  no  possible  question  that  Mr. 
Chester’s  story  is  true  in  every  detail.” 

“Then  Hope  was  innocent.  That,  perhaps,  accounts 
for  the  failure  of  the  police  to  find  the  money.” 

“Do  you  entertain  any  expectation  of  finding  it,  Mr. 
Carter?”  asked  Chester.  “It  was  a considerable  sum, 
and  l would  be  glad  to  divide  it  with  you.” 

“Thank  you.  The  money  was  in  large  bills,  I sup- 
pose. Thousands,  mostly?” 

“Yes.” 

“Have  you  the  numbers?” 

“Here  is  a list  of  them.” 

“I  have  some  hope  of  recovering  them,”  said  the  de- 
tective. “I  believe  that  I know  where  they  are,  or 
most  of  them,  at  any  rate.” 

“Where?”  cried  both  the  other  men  in  one  breath. 
“Excuse  me  for  the  present,”  laughed  Nick.  “I’m 
going  to  see  if  ray  conclusion  is  correct.” 


/ 


. - ' j 

212  The  Acquittal. 

V 

H©  turned  to  Chester,  and  took  his  hand. 

“Good-by,  sir,”  he  said  gravely.  “If  you  will  not 
think  it  impertinent,  I wish  to  give  you  a piece  of  ad- 
vice. Go  home.  Spend  the  next  few  days  quietly 
with  your  brother  and  the  other  relatives  now  visiting 
you.  Summon  as  many  more  as  are  congenial  to  you, 
and  enjoy  their  company. 

“And  have  no  fear.  I will  guard  your  house,  and 
no  mortal  shall  enter  to  do  you  harm.” 

He  looked  kindly  into  the  man’s  face,  and  then 
walked  away. 

“I'shall  do  as  be  says, 5 ’ said  Chester  to  Hartmann. 
“It  will  do  me  good  to  be  quiet,  and  to  have  my  friends 
about  me.  It  will  be  restful,  and,  somehow,  I feel 
like  taking  a good,  long  rest.” 

He  repeated  the  words  “a /good,  long  rest”  as  he 
walked  slowly  down  the  corridor,  and  passed  out  of 
Hartmann's  sight. 

Three  days  passed.  The  sharp  edge  of  defeat  was 
beginning  to  wear  off  of  Hartmann’s  sensibilities. 

He  looked  upon  tbe  Ohester-Hope  case  as  closed;  for 
he  had  no  idea  that  Nick  could  run  down  the  mysteri- 
ous man  who  had  so  complete!}"  eluded  capture,  and  so 
nearly  sent  another  to  prison  in  his  stead. 

Hartman  was  a bachelor,  and  had  rooms  in  the 
Mohawk,  on  Fifth  avenue.  On  the  third  evening  fol- 
lowing the  trial,  he  was  sitting  in  his*  rooms  when  there 
was  a sharp  rap  at  the  door. 

Nick  Carter  entered. 

“Come!”  he  cried.*  “Hurry!  I’ve  located  the 
money  in  the  Hope  case.  I want  you  to  see  me  crack 
the  crib.” 

Hartmann  grabbed  his  hat  and  paused  for  nothing 
else.  ' 

There  r closed  carriage  at  the  door,  and  it 


The  Acquittal.  213 

whirled  them  away  so  rapidly  that  Hartmann  had  no 
notion  which  way  they  were  going.  # - 

He  gave  all  his  attention  to  Nick,  whom  he  deluged 
with  questions. 

But  the  detective,  according  to  hiscustom,  refused 
to  answer  them. 

talked  of  literature,  science  and  art  with  great 
readiness,  but  not  of  the  Chester  case. 

The  cab  went  straight  downtown,  and  stopped  along- 
side the  post  office.  The  two  men  alighted. 

Nick  hurried  Hartmann  along  until  they  reached  one 
of  the  older  office  buildings  on  Nassau  street. 

They  approached,  and  entered  cautiously.  Then 
they  began  to  climb  stairs,  and  never  stopped  till  they 
reached  the  roof. 

Hartmann  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  ther  scuttle,  and 
panted. 

“Is  this  a joke,  Nick?*’  he  gasped., 

“Not  a bit  of  it;  come  along, ” cried  the  detective. 
“I  want  to  take  you  into  another  building;  and  we’ve 
got  to  reach  it  from  the  direction  of  the  sky,  in  order 
not  to  alarm  the  people  we’re  after. 

“You  see,  the  building  is  closed  at  night,  and  the 
shrewd  gentleman  I’m  after  has  fixed  an  electric  wire 
from  the  door  to  his  office. 

“When  he  holds  secret  conferences  in  his  rooms  at 
night,  he  takes  care  not  be  interrupted.  We  can’t 
afford  to  ring  his  burglar  alarm.” 

Nick  took  Hartmann  by  the  arm,  and  hurried  him 
over  the  roof  to  the  wall  of  a taller  building. 

A rope  ladder  enabled  them  to  ascend,  for  the  assist- 
ant district  attorney  is  a good  athlete. 

On  the  roof  they  found  Nick’s  young  assistant, 
Patsy. 

“All  clear,”  he  whispered  to  his  chief. 


214  The  Acquittal . 

They  descended  into  the  building,  using  extreme 
caution  when  they  came  to  the  sixth  floor. 

Here  Nick,  guiding  Hartmann  by  the  hand,  led  him 
into  a perfectly  dark  room. 

“Look  out,55  he  whispered,  with  his  lips  close  to 
Hartmann’s  ear.  “A  part  of  the  floor  has  been  re- 
moved.55 , 

Hartmann  got  down  on  his  knees.  His  hand  touched 
a human  being,  and  he  knew  it  was  neither  Dick  nor 
Patsy.  ~ 

“Chick!55  whispered  Dick,  in  the  same  tone,  which 
could  not  be  heard  except  by  the  person  addressed. 

Hartmann  rocognized  the  name.  He  cast  his  eyes 
down,  and  in  the  darkness  saw  two  bright  holes  like 
eyes. 

Meanwhile,  Nick’s  arm  was  bending  the  lawyer 
down.  He  understood,  and  put  his  eyes  to  one  of  the 
holes.  His  head  was  over  a place  from  which  the  floor 
had  been  taken  up. 

Below  him  he  could  see  a lighted  room. 

“Steinburg’s  office!” 

His  lips  framed  the  words,  and  only  a great  effort 
prevented  his  uttering  them. 

Stein  burg  was  there,  and  so  was  Benny  Hope. 

Another  man  was  present ; but  he  sat  in  such  a posi- 
tion that  Hartmann  could  see  only  his  legs. 

Nick’s  hand  tightened  on  the  lawyer’s  arm.  He 
listened.  Voices  were  audible  below. 

“I  didn’t  suppose  that  you  boys  would  make  me  all 
this  trouble,”  Steinburg  was  saying.  “I  thought  it 
was  clearly  understood  that  I was  to  have  half,  and 
that  you  were  to  divide  the  remainder,” 

“I  guess  not,”  said  Hope  decidedly.  “Pm  to  have 
half,  and  you  divide  the  rest.” 

“Oar  eontr^t  .says  ‘the  principal  to  have  V'V” 


2l5 


The  Acquittal. 

said  Steinburg.  “Of 'course,  I’m  the  principal.  I got 
you  free,  Benny,  by  two  strokes  of  positive  genius. 
They  were  worth  the  money.  ” 

There  was  more  bickering;  but  it  was  finally  decided 
that  Steinburg  should  have  two-fiftbs,  and  that  the 
others  should  divide  as  they  might  agree.  It  was  a 
triumph  of  horse  trading  for  the  lawyer. 

When  it  was  over,  he  went  to  his  safe,  and  took  out 
a package  of  money. 

“Look  out  for  this,  boys,”  he  said,  parceling  out  the 
notes.  “The  numbers  are  known  ” 

Hartmann  again  felt  Nick’s  grip.  He  was  raised 
from  the  floor.  In  a moment  they  were  in  the  hall, 
but  no  noise  had  been  made. 

Chick  was  already  before  Steinburg’s  door  when 
they  arrived. 

In  another  moment  the  door  fell  in,  and  the  three 
criminals  were  covered  by  revolvers  in  the  hands  of 
Nick  and  his  assistants. 

Hartmann,  after  a glance  at  Steinburg  and  Hope, 
turned  to  the  third  man. 

“Hugh  Breslau!”  he  exclaimed. 

“You  know  him,  then?”  said  Nick. 

“Certainly.  He’s  a sort  of  chief  turnkey  in  the 
Tdmbs  prison.  What’s  he  doing  here?” 

“He  is  the  man  by  whose  assistance  Hope — acting 
Under  Steinburg’s  advice — got  out  of  prison  fora  single 
night,  and  made  his  second  call, on  Chester.” 

“Great  Heaven!  Then  the  two  midnight  visitors 
were  the  same?” 

“Of  course.  That  was  one  of  the  horns  of  the  di- 
lemma. When  you  gave  the  case  to  me,  I saw  the  two 
possibilities. 

“If  the  two  burglars  were  not  really  one,  Hope  was 
innocent,  and  should  be  acquitted;  A 


2i  6 The  Acquittal!. 

“If  they  were  one,  Hope  was  guilty,  and  some  official 
in  the  Tombs  was  also  guilty. 

4 4 Now,  if  the  latter  was  true,  the  plot  was  so  clever 
that  I knew  it  must  have  originated  with  Steinburg. 
Only  he  would  have  read  Mr.  Chester’s  character  so 
w ell  as  to  advise  that  he  should  be  commanded  to  tes- 
tify against  Hope. 

44  A less  shrewxl  man  would  have  ordered  him  to  tes- 
tify in  Hope’s  favor,  and  thus  spoiled  the  story  for  the 
jury.  Of  course,  the  jurymen  had  no  suspicion  that 
Hope  was  the  second  burlgar. 

4 4 They  supposed  him  to  be  in  the  Tombs.  Could  it 
be  anybody  acting  in  his  interest?  Certainly  not,  or 
the  order  vrould  have  been:  ‘Testify  for  him,  or  die!’ 

“Steinburg  was  shrewd  enough  to  know  that  Ches- 
ter’s conscience  would  certainly  triumph  over  his  fears. 
Ah,  Chick,  are  the  numbers  right?” 

Nick’s  assistant  had  been  examining  tie  banknotes. 

4 4 They’re  all  here,”  he  said. 

44 Then  that  closes  the  case  against  Breslau  and  Stein- 
burg.  Now  for  Hope.” 

4 4 But,  Carter,”  whispered  Hartmann;  “he’s  been 
acquitted.” 

4 4 Not  of  the  charge  which  I shall  bring  agairfst  him. 
Benjamin  Hope,  I arrest  you  for  the  murder  of  Morton 
B.  Chester.” 

“Murder!”  cried  Hope,  Hartmann  and  Breslau  to- 
gether, while  Steinburg’s  dark, brows  were  knitted  even 
tighter,  though  his  lips  did  not  move. 

44 Yes;  he  is  dead.  He  died  at  seven  o’clock  this 
evening.  I knew  that  it  must  come. 

“The  doctors  told  hinKthat  his  wound  had  healed. 
They  must  have  been  very  poor  doctors.  I saw  at  once 
that  a process  had  been  set  up  in  the  brain  beneath  the 
wound  which  no  medicine  or  surgery  could  alleviate. 


The  Acquittal. !,T  | ft  217 

“Therefore,  I sent  him  to  his  home  v/ith  the  recom- 
mendation to  stay  here  and  enjoy  as  long  as  possible 
and  as  quietly  the  society  of  those  he  loved.  He  could 
do  no  better.” 

“ ‘A  long  rest/  ” muttered  Hartmann,  t repeating  the 
last  words  he  had  heard  Chester  utter.  “He  has  found 
it.  May  he  sleep  well. 

“But,  tell  me,  Nick,  why  did  you  let  Hope  be  ac- 
quitted ?” 

“In  order  to  secure  this  pleasant  meeting.  Look  here ! 
Hope  must  have  bribed  a keeper. 

“With  what?  Evidently  with  promises,  for  he  cer- 
tainly did  not  take  his  booty  to  the  Tbmbs  with  him. 

“Then  what  was  sure  to  happen?  Why,  a payment 
by  Hope  to  the  keeper.  So  I had  every  keeper  who 
could  possibly  be  suspected  shadowed. 

“Breslau  led  me  to  Hope,  and  Hope  to  Steinburg,  and 
so  here  we  are.” 

“Yes,”  said  Hartmann ; “and'  all  has  come  about  as 
I could  have  wished,  except  poor  Chester's  death. 

“As  for  you,  Hope,  when  next  I call  you  to  the  bar  I 
shall  demand  your  life,  and  I shall  have  it. 

“Steinburg  and  Breslau,  a prison  waits  for  you,  and 
it  will  certainly  not  wait  long.” 

All  of  which  predictions  are  in  a fair  way  to  be  ful- 
filled. 7 ' 

THE  END. 

No.  981  of  the  New  Magnet  Library  is  “Death  in 
Life.”  Of  all  the  strange  cases  Nick  Carter  has  ever 
been  called  upon  to  solve,  this  is  one  of  the  most  thor- 
oughly weird,  uncanny,  and  mystifying.  The  master 
detective  has  a hard  time  and  is  in  many  tight  places 
in  the  course  of  the  adventure,  but — well,  read  the  story 
and  see  for  yourself  how  the  mystery  is  explained. 


m ff  Mrim! 


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